H  \ 


CN  &AM 
A^lliamson 


24W&<&*is*«{ 


MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 


She  was  only  a  tall  white  girl  simply  dressed 


MY  FRIEND 
THE  CHAUFFEUR 

BY 
C.  N.  &   A.  M. 

WILLIAMSON 

// 

AUTHORS  OF  THE  LIGHTNING  CONDUCTOR, 
THE  PRINCESS  PASSES,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY   FREDERIC   LOWENHEEM 


NEW  YORK 

McCLURE,  PHILLIPS  &  CO. 
MCMV 


Copyright,  1905,  by 

McCLURE,  PHILLIPS  &  CO. 

Published  September,  1905 


TO 
THE  OTHER  BEECHY 


CM 
<D_k 


CONTENTS 
PART  I— TOLD  BY  RALPH   MORAY 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I   A  CHAPTER  or  SURPRISES 3 

II  A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS 17 

III  A  CHAPTER  OF  REVENGES 28 

IV  A  CHAPTER  OF  HUMILIATIONS 40 

V  A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES 55 

VI  A  CHAPTER  OF  PREDICAMENTS 78 

PART  II  — TOLD  BY  BEECHY  KIDDER 

VII   A  CHAPTER  OF  CHILDISHNESS 89 

VIII   A  CHAPTER  OF  PLAYING  DOLLS 97 

IX  A  CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS 107 

X   A  CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS 115 

XI   A  CHAPTER  OF  BRAKES  AND  WORMS    .     .     .     .129 

XII  A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS 138 

XIII  A  CHAPTER  OF  WILD  BEASTS 152 

XIV  A  CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW    .     .     .163 

PART  III  —TOLD  BY  THE   COUNTESS 

XV  A  CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS 175 

XVI  A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT 191 


CONTENTS 
PART  IV  — TOLD  BY  MAIDA  DESTREY 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII  A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA 205 

XVIII   A  CHAPTER  ACCORDING  TO  SHAKSPERE      .    .  225 

XIX   A  CHAPTER  OF  PALACES  AND  PRINCES       .    .  235 

XX   A  CHAPTER  IN  FAIRYLAND 244 

XXI  A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS 256 

XXII  A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE     .    .  267 

XXIII  A  CHAPTER  OF  KIDNAPPING 283 

XXIV  A  CHAPTER  ON  PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  .  292 

PART  V  — TOLD  BY  TERENCE  BARRYMORE 

XXV  A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING 303 

XXVI  A  CHAPTER  OF  HIGH  DIPLOMACY      ....  316 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

SHE     WAS     ONLY    A    TALL     WHITE     GIRL     SIMPLY 

DRESSED Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


As    HE  SPOKE   A   DOUANIER  LOUNGED  OUT   OF   His 

LITTLE  WHITEWASHED  LAIR 62 

"WiLL   You  NOT   LET  ME  BE  YOUR  FRIEND,  Miss 

BEECHY?" 102 

Two   OR    THREE    MEN    WERE    MOVING    ABOUT  THE 

PLACE 148 

A   GREAT  WHITE    LIGHT  POUNCED    UPON   Us    LIKE 

A  HAWK  ON  A  CHICKEN 200 

THE  CAR   SWERVED   SHARPLY   AND    MY  SIDE  OF  THE 
TONNEAU  SEEMED  TO  SETTLE  DOWN 296 


MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 


PART  I 

TOLD  BY  RALPH  MORAY 
I 

A  CHAPTER  OF  SURPRISES 

WANTED,  LADIES,  TO  CONDUCT.  An  ama 
teur  automobilist  (English,  titled)  who  drives  his 
own    motor-car    accommodating    five    persons, 
offers  to  conduct  two  or  three  ladies,  Americans 
preferred,  to  any  picturesque  centres  in   Europe   which   they 
may  desire  to  visit.  Car  has  capacity  for  carrying  small  luggage, 
and  is  of  best  type.  Journeys  of  about  100  miles  a  day.    Novel 
and  delightful  way  of  travelling ;  owner  of  car  well  up  in  history, 
art,  and  architecture  of  different  countries.  Inclusive  terms  five 
guineas  a   day  each,  or  slight  reduction  made  for  extensive 
trip.    Address  —  " 

When  Terry  had  read  aloud  thus  far,  I  hastily  interrupted  him. 
I  was  n't  quite  ready  yet  for  him  to  see  that  address.  The  thing 
needed  a  little  leading  up  to ;  and  by  way  of  getting  him  quickly 
and  safely  on  to  a  side  rack  I  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter,  so 
loud  and  so  sudden  that  he  looked  up  from  the  little  pink  Riviera 
newspaper  of  which  I  was  the  proud  proprietor,  to  stare  at  me. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  subsided.  "The  idea  struck  me  so  forcibly,"  said  I.  "Jolly 
clever,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  fake,  of  course,"  said  Terry.  "  No  fellow  would  be  ass 
enough  to  advertise  himself  like  that  in  earnest.  Probably  the 
thing  's  been  put  in  for  a  bet,  or  else  it 's  a  practical  joke." 

I  had  been  aware  that  this,  or  something  like  it,  would  come, 
but  now  that  the  crisis  was  at  hand  I  felt  qualmish.  Terry  — 

3 


4  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

known  to  strangers  as  Lord  Terence  Barrymore  —  is  the  best 
and  most  delightful  chap  in  the  world,  as  well  as  one  of  the  best 
looking,  but  like  several  other  Irishmen  he  is,  to  put  it  mildly, 
rather  hard  to  manage,  especially  when  you  want  to  do  him  a 
good  turn.  I  had  been  trying  to  do  him  one  without  his  know 
ing  it,  and  in  such  a  way  that  he  could  n't  escape  when  he  did 
know.  But  the  success  of  my  scheme  was  now  being  dandled  on 
the  knees  of  the  gods,  and  at  any  instant  it  might  fall  off  to 
break  like  an  egg. 

"  I  believe  it  's  genuine,"  I  began  gingerly,  almost  wishing  that 
I  had  n't  purposely  put  the  pink  paper  where  Terry  would  be 
sure  to  pick  it  up.  "  And  I  don't  see  why  you  should  call  the  ad 
vertiser  in  my  paper  an  ass.  If  you  were  hard  up,  and  had  a  motor 
car  —  " 

"  I  am  hard  up,  and  I  have  a  motor-car." 

"  What  I  was  going  to  say  is  this :  would  n't  it  be  much  better  to 
turn  your  car  into  the  means  of  making  an  honest  living,  and  at 
the  same  time  having  some  rattling  good  fun,  rather  than  sell  the 
thing  for  less  than  half  cost,  and  not  only  get  no  fun  at  all,  but 
not  know  how  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  in  which  you  've  landed 
yourself  ? " 

It  was  Terry's  turn  to  laugh  now,  which  he  did,  though  not  up 
roariously,  as  I 'had.  "One  would  think  the  ass  was  a  friend  of 
yours,  by  your  enthusiasm  in  defending  him,"  said  he. 

"  I  'm  only  putting  the  case  to  you  in  the  way  I  thought  you  'd 
see  it  most  clearly,"  I  persisted  mildly.  "  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  'ass'  as  you  call  him,  is  my  friend,  a  very  intimate  friend 
indeed." 

"  Did  n't  know  you  had  any  intimate  friends  but  me,  anyhow 
owners  of  motor-cars,  you  old  owl,"  remarked  Terry.  "  I  must 
say  in  your  defence,  though,  it  is  n't  like  you  to  have  friends  who 
advertise  themselves  as  titled  couriers." 

"  If  you  're  obliged  to  start  a  shop  I  suppose  it 's  legitimate  to 
put  your  best  goods  in  the  windows,  and  arrange  them  as  attrac 
tively  as  you  can  to  appeal  to  the  public,"  I  argued.  "  This  is  the 


A   CHAPTER   OF  SURPRISES  5 

same  thing.  Besides,  my  friend  is  n't  advertising  himself.  Some 
body  is  '  running  him '  —  doing  it  for  him ;  wants  him  to  get  on, 
you  know  —  just  as  I  do  you." 

Terry  gave  me  a  quick  glance;  but  my  face  (which  is  blond 
and  said  to  be  singularly  youthful  for  a  man  of  twenty-nine)  was, 
I  flatter  myself,  as  innocent  as  that  of  a  choir-boy  who  has  just 
delivered  himself  of  a  high  soprano  note.  Nevertheless,  the  end 
was  coming.  I  felt  it  in  the  electric  tingle  of  the  air. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  your  friend's  name,  or  is  he  a 
secret  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  the  address  at  the  end  of  the  advertisement  will  be 
enlightening." 

Terry  had  dropped  the  paper  on  the  grass  by  the  side  of  his 
chaise  longue,  but  now  he  picked  it  up  again,  and  began  search 
ing  for  the  place  which  he  had  lost.  I,  in  my  chaise  longue  under 
the  same  magnolia  tree,  gazed  at  him  from  under  my  tilted 
Panama.  Terry  is  tall  and  dark.  Stretched  out  in  the  basket 
chair,  he  looked  very  big  and  rather  formidable.  Beside  him,  I 
felt  a  small  and  reedy  person.  I  really  hoped  he  would  not  give 
me  much  trouble.  The  day  was  too  hot  to  cope  with  troublesome 
people,  especially  if  you  were  fond  of  them,  for  then  you  were  the 
more  likely  to  lose  your  head. 

But  the  beginning  was  not  encouraging.  Terry  proceeded  to 
read  the  end  of  the  advertisement  aloud.  "Address  X.  Y.  Z., 
Chalet  des  Pins,  Cap  Martin."  Then  he  said  something  which 
did  not  go  at  all  with  the  weather.  Why  is  it  that  so  many  bad 
words  begin  with  D  or  H  ?  One  almost  gets  to  think  that  they  are 
letters  for  respectable  people  to  avoid. 

"Hang  it  all,  Ralph,"  he  went  on,  after  the  explosion, 
"  I  must  say  I  don't  like  your  taste  in  jokes.  This  is  a  bit  too 
steep." 

I  sat  up  straight,  with  a  leg  on  each  side  of  the  chair,  and 
looked  reproaches.  "I  thought,"  I  said  slowly,  "that  when  your 
brother  behaved  like  such  a  —  well,  we  won't  specify  what  — 
you  asked,  I  might  even  say  begged,  for  my  advice,  and  promised 


6  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

in  a  midnight  conversation  under  this  very  tree  to  take  it,  no 
matter  how  disagreeable  it  might  prove." 

" I  did;  but  - 

"  There  's  no  such  word  as '  but.'  Last  year  I  advised  you  not  to 
put  your  money  into  West  Africans.  You  put  it  in.  What  was  the 
consequence  ?  You  regretted  it,  and  as  your  brother  showed  no 
very  keen  interest  in  your  career,  you  decided  that  you  could  n't 
afford  to  stop  in  the  Guards,  so  you  cut  the  Army.  This  year  I 
advised  you  not  to  play  that  .system  of  yours  and  Raleigh's  at 
Monte  Carlo,  or  if  you  must  have  a  go  at  it,  to  stick  to  roulette 
and  five  franc  stakes.  Instead  of  listening  to  me,  you  listened  to 
him.  What  were  the  consequences  ?  " 

"  For  goodness  sake  don't  moralize.  I  know  well  enough  what 
they  were.  Ruin.  And  it  does  n't  gild  the  pill  to  remember  that  I 
deserved  to  swallow  it." 

"  If  only  you  'd  swallowed  the  advice  instead !  It  would  have 
slipped  down  more  easily,  poor  old  boy.  But  you  swore  to  bolt 
the  next  dose  without  a  groan.  I  said  I  'd  try  and  think  of  a  better 
plan  than  selling  your  Panhard,  and  going  out  to  help  work  an 
African  farm  on  the  proceeds.  Well,  I  have  thought  of  a  plan,  and 
there  you  have  the  proof  of  my  combined  solicitude  and  ingenu 
ity,  in  my  own  paper." 

"Don't  shoot  off  big  words  at  me." 

"I  'm  a  journalist;  my  father  before  me  was  a  journalist, 
and  got  his  silly  old  baronetcy  by  being  a  journalist.  1 9m  one 
still,  and  have  saved  up  quite  a  little  competency  on  big  words 
and  potted  phrases.  I  've  collected  a  great  many  practical  ideas 
in  my  experience.  I  want  to  make  you  a  present  of  some  of  them, 
if  only  you  '11  have  them." 

"  Do  you  call  this  advertisement  a  practical  idea  ?  You  can't 
for  a  minute  suppose  that  I  'd  be  found  dead  carting  a  lot  of 
American  or  other  women  whom  I  don't  know  about  Europe  in 
my  car,  and  taking  their  beastly  money  ?  " 

"If  you  drove  properly,  you  wouldn't  be  found  dead;  and 
you  would  know  them,"  I  had  begun,  when  there  was  a  ring 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SURPRISES  7 

at  the  gate  bell,  and  the  high  wall  of  the  garden  abruptly  opened 
to  admit  a  tidal  wave  of  chiffon  and  muslin. 

Terry  and  I  were  both  so  taken  aback  at  this  unexpected  inun 
dation  that  for  a  moment  we  lay  still  in  our  chairs  and  stared, 
with  our  hats  tipped  over  our  eyes  and  our  pipes  in  our  mouths. 
We  were  not  accustomed  to  afternoon  calls  or  any  other  time-of- 
day  calls  from  chiffon  and  muslin  at  the  Chalet  des  Pins,  there 
fore  our  first  impression  was  that  the  tidal  wave  had  overflowed 
through  my  gate  by  mistake,  and  would  promptly  retire  in  disor 
der  at  sight  of  us.  But  not  at  all.  It  swept  up  the  path,  in  pink, 
pale  green,  and  white  billows,  frothing  at  the  edges  with  lace. 

There  was  a  lot  of  it  —  a  bewildering  lot.  It  was  all  train,  and 
big,  flowery  hats,  and  wonderful  transparent  parasols,  which  you 
felt  you  ought  to  see  through,  and  could  n't.  Before  it  was  upon 
us,  Terry  and  I  had  sprung  up  in  self-defence,  our  pipes  burning 
holes  in  our  pockets,  our  Panamas  in  our  hands. 

Now  the  inundation  divided  itself  into  separate  wavelets, 
the  last  lagging  behind,  crested  by  a  foaming  parasol,  which 
hid  all  details,  except  a  general  white  muslin  filminess.  But 
Terry  and  I  had  not  much  chance  to  observe  the  third  billow. 
Our  attention  was  caught  by  the  first  glittering  rush  of  pink  and 
emerald  spray. 

Out  of  it  a  voice  spoke  —  an  American  voice;  and  then,  with  a 
lacy  whirl,  a  parasol  rose  like  a  stage  curtain.  The  green  wave 
was  a  lady;  a  marvellous  lady.  The  pink  wave  was  a  child  with  a 
brown  face,  two  long  brown  plaits,  and  pink  silk  legs,  also  pink 
shoes. 

"  We  Ve  come  in  answer  to  X.  Y.  Z.'s  advertisement  in  this 
morning's  Riviera  Sun.  Now  which  of  you  two  gentlemen 
put  it  in?"  began  the  lady,  with  gay  coquetry  which 
played  over  each  of  us  in  turn.  Oh  yes,  she  was  wonderful. 
She  had  hair  of  the  brightest  auburn  that  ever  crowned 
a  human  head.  It  was  done  in  undulations,  with  a  fat 
ring  in  the  middle  of  her  forehead,  between  two  beauti 
fully  arched  black  eyebrows.  Her  skin  was  very  white,  her 


8  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

cheeks  were  very  pink,  and  her  lips  were  very  coralline.  Every 
thing  about  her  was  "very."  Out  of  a  plump  face,  with  a  small 
nose  that  turned  up  and  a  chin  which  was  over-round,  looked 
a  pair  of  big,  good-natured,  nondescript-coloured  eyes,  and 
flashed  a  pair  of  pleasant  dimples.  At  first  glance  you  said  "  a 
stout  girl  of  twenty-five."  At  the  second,  you  were  not  sure  that 
the  lady  was  n't  ten  years  older.  But  her  waist  was  so  slender 
that  she  panted  a  little  in  coming  up  the  path,  though  the  path 
was  by  no  means  steep,  and  her  heels  were  so  high  that  there  was 
a  suspicion  of  limp  in  her  walk. 

Even  to  me  the  lady  and  her  announcement  gave  a  shock, 
which  must  have  doubled  its  effect  upon  Terry.  I  was  collecting 
my  forces  for  a  reply  when  the  little  brown  girl  giggled,  and  I 
lost  myself  again.  It  was  only  for  an  instant,  but  Terry  basely 
took  advantage  of  that  instant  in  a  way  of  which  I  would  not 
have  believed  him  capable. 

"You  must  address  yourself  to  my  friend,  Sir  Ralph  Moray," 
said  the  wretched  fellow  glibly.  "His  are  the  car  and  the  title 
mentioned  in  the  advertisement  of  The  Riviera  Sun,  which  he 
owns." 

My  title  indeed !  A  baronetical  crumb  flung  to  my  father  be 
cause  of  a  service  to  his  political  party.  It  had  never  done  any 
thing  for  me,  except  to  add  ten  per  cent  to  my  bills  at  hotels. 
Now,  before  I  could  speak  a  word  of  contradiction,  Terry  went 
on.  "  I  am  only  Mr.  Barrymore,"  said  he,  and  he  grinned  a  mali 
cious  grin,  which  said  as  plainly  as  words,  "Aha,  my  boy,  I 
think  that  rips  your  little  scheme  to  smithereens,  eh  ?  " 

But  my  presence  of  mind  does  n't  often  fail  for  long.  "  It  's 
Mr.  Barrymore  who  drives  my  car  for  me,"  I  explained.  "He  's 
cleverer  at  it  than  I,  and  he  comes  cheaper  than  a  professional." 

The  wonderful  white  and  pink  and  auburn  lady  had  been 
looking  at  Terry  with  open  admiration ;  but  now  the  light  of  in 
terest  faded  from  the  good-natured  face  under  the  girlish  hat. 
"  O-oh,"  she  commented  in  a  tone  of  ingenuous  disappointment, 
"you  're  only  the  —  the  chawffur,  then." 


A   CHAPTER  OF  SURPRISES  9 

I  did  n't  want  Terry  to  sink  too  low  in  these  possible  clients' 
estimation,  for  my  canny  Scotch  mind  was  working  round  the 
fact  that  they  were  probably  American  heiresses,  and  an  heiress 
of  some  sort  was  a  necessity  for  the  younger  brother  of  that 
meanest  of  bachelor  peers,  the  Marquis  of  Innisfallen.  "  He  's  an 
amateur  chauffeur,"  I  hastened  to  explain.  "  He  only  does  it  for 
me  because  we  're  friends,  you  know;  but,"  I  added,  with  a 
stern  and  meaning  glance  at  Terry,  "  I  'm  unable  to  undertake 
any  tours  without  his  assistance.  So  if  we  —  er  —  arrange  any 
thing,  Mr.  Barrymore  will  be  of  our  party." 

"  Unfortunately  I  have  an  engagement  in  South  Af  —  "  began 
Terry,  when  the  parasol  of  the  third  member  of  the  party  (the  one 
who  had  lagged  behind,  stopping  to  examine,  or  seeming  to  exam 
ine  a  rose-bush)  was  laid  back  upon  her  white  muslin  shoulders. 

Somehow  Terry  forgot  to  finish  his  sentence,  and  I  forgot  to 
wonder  what  the  end  was  to  be. 

She  was  only  a  tall,  white  girl,  simply  dressed;  yet  suddenly 
the  little  garden  of  the  Chalet  des  Pins,  with  its  high  wall  draped 
with  crimson  bougainvilla,  became  a  setting  for  a  picture. 

The  new  vision  was  built  on  too  grand  a  scale  for  me,  because  I 
stand  only  five  foot  eight  in  my  boots,  while  she  was  five  foot 
seven  if  she  was  an  inch,  but  she  might  have  been  made  ex 
pressly  for  Terry,  and  he  for  her.  There  was  something  of  the 
sweet,  youthful  dignity  of  Giovanni  Bellini's  Madonnas  of  the 
Trees  about  the  girl's  bearing  and  the  pose  of  the  white  throat; 
but  the  face  was  almost  childlike  in  the  candour  and  virginal 
innocence  of  its  large  brown  eyes.  The  pure  forehead  had  a  halo 
of  yellow-brown  hair,  burnished  gold  where  the  sun  touched 
it;  the  lips  were  red,  with  an  adorable  droop  in  the  corners,  and 
the  skin  had  that  flower-fairness  of  youth  which  makes  older 
women's  faces  look  either  sallow  or  artificial.  If  we  —  Terry 
a  id  I  —  had  not  already  divined  that  the  auburn  lady  got  her 
complexion  out  of  bottles  and  boxes,  we  would  have  known  it 
with  the  lifting  of  that  white  girl's  parasol. 

Can  a  saintly  virgin  on  a  golden  panel  look  sulky  ?  I  'm  not  sure, 


10  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

but  this  virgin  gave  the  effect  of  having  been  reluctantly  torn  from 
such  a  background,  and  she  looked  distinctly  sulky,  even  angeli 
cally  cross.  She  had  not  wanted  to  come  into  my  garden,  that 
was  plain;  and  she  lagged  behind  the  others  to  gaze  at  a  rose 
bush,  by  way  of  a  protest  against  the  whole  expedition.  What  she 
saw  to  disapprove  of  in  me  I  was  at  a  loss  to  guess,  but  that  she 
did  disapprove  was  evident.  The  dazzling  brown  eyes,  with  the 
afternoon  sun  glinting  between  their  thick  dark  fringes,  hated 
me  for  something;  —  was  it  my  existence,  or  my  advertise 
ment  ?  Then  they  wandered  to  Terry,  and  pitied,  rather  than 
spurned.  "  You  poor,  handsome,  big  fellow,"  they  seemed  so  say, 
"  so  you  are  that  miserable  little  man's  chauffeur !  You  must  be 
very  unfortunate,  or  you  would  have  found  a  better  career.  I  'm 
so  sorry  for  you." 

"  Do  sit  down,  please,"  I  said,  lest  after  all  it  should  occur  to 
Terry  to  finish  that  broken  sentence  of  his.  "  These  chairs  will  be 
more  comfortable  if  I  straighten  their  backs  up  a  little.  And  this 
seat  round  the  tree  is  n't  bad.  I  —  I  '11  tell  my  servant  to  send  out 
tea  —  we  were  going  to  have  it  soon  —  and  we  can  talk  things 
over.  It  will  be  pleasanter." 

"  What  a  lovely  idea ! "  exclaimed  the  auburn  lady.  "  Why,  of 
course  we  will.  Beechy,  you  take  one  of  those  steamer-chairs.  I 
like  a  high  seat  myself.  Come,  Maida;  the  gentlemen  have  asked 
us  to  stay  to  tea,  and  we  're  going  to." 

Beechy  —  the  little  brown  girl  —  subsided  with  a  babyish 
meekness  that  contradicted  a  wicked  laughing  imp  in  her  eyes, 
into  one  of  the  chaises  longues  which  I  had  brought  up  from  its 
knees  to  a  sort  of  "  stand  and  deliver  "  attitude.  But  the  tall  white 
girl  (the  name  of  "  Maida "  suited  her  singularly  well)  did  not 
stir  an  inch.  "  I  think  I  '11  go  on  if  you  don't  mind,  Aunt  Ka  —  I 
mean,  Kittie,"  she  said  in  a  soft  voice  that  was  as  American  in 
its  way  as  the  auburn  lady's,  but  a  hundred  and  fifty  times 
sweeter.  I  rather  fancied  that  it  must  have  been  grown  some 
where  in  the  South,  where  the  sun  was  warm,  and  the  flowers 
as  luxuriant  as  our  Riviera  blossoms. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SURPRISES  11 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  retorted  her  relative  per 
emptorily.  "  You  '11  just  stay  here  with  Beechy  and  me,  till  we  've 
done  our  business." 

"  But  I  have  n't  anything  to  do  with  —  " 

"  You  're  going  with  us  on  the  trip,  anyhow,  if  we  go.  Now, 
come  along  and  don't  make  a  fuss." 

For  a  moment  "  Maida  "  hesitated,  then  she  did  come  along, 
and  as  obediently  as  the  brown  child,  though  not  so  willingly,  sat 
down  in  the  chaise  tongue,  carefully  arranged  for  her  reception 
by  Terry. 

"  Evidently  a  poor  relation,  or  she  would  n't  submit  to  being 
ordered  about  like  that,"  I  thought.  "  Of  course,  any  one  might 
see  that  she  's  too  pretty  to  be  an  heiress.  They  don't  make  them 
like  that.  Such  beauties  never  have  a  penny  to  bless  themselves 
with.  Just  Terry's  luck  if  he  falls  in  love  with  her,  after  all  I  've 
done  for  him,  too !  But  if  this  tour  does  come  off,  I  must  try  to 
block  that  game." 

"  I  expect  I  'd  better  introduce  myself  and  my  little  thirteen- 
year-old  daughter,  and  my  niece,"  said  the  auburn  lady,  putting 
down  her  parasol,  and  opening  a  microscopic  fan.  "  I  'm  Mrs. 
Kathryn  Stanley  Kidder,  of  Denver,  Colorado.  My  little  girl, 
here  —  she  's  all  I  've  got  in  the  world  since  Mr.  Kidder  died  — 
is  Beatrice,  but  we  call  her  Beechy  for  short.  We  used  to  spell  it 
B-i-c-e,  which  Mr.  Kidder  said  was  Italian;  but  people  would 
pronounce  it  to  rhyme  with  mice,  so  now  we  make  it  just  like 
the  tree,  and  then  there  can't  be  any  mistake.  Miss  Madeleine 
Destrey  is  the  daughter  of  my  dead  sister,  who  was  ever  so  much 
older  than  I  am  of  course ;  and  the  way  she  happened  to  come 
over  with  Beechy  and  me  is  quite  a  romance;  but  I  guess  you  '11 
think  I  've  told  you  enough  about  ourselves." 

"  It  's  like  the  people  in  old  comic  pictures  who  have  kind  of 
balloon  things  coming  out  of  their  mouths,  with  a  verse  thor 
oughly  explaining  who  they  are,  is  n't  it  ?  "  remarked  Miss  Beechy 
in  a  little  soft,  childish  voice,  and  at  least  a  dozen  imps  looking 
out  of  her  eyes  all  at  once.  "  Mamma's  balloon  never  collapses." 


12  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

To  break  the  awkward  silence  following  upon  this  frank  com 
parison,  I  bustled  away  with  hospitable  murmurs  concerning 
tea.  But,  my  back  once  turned  upon  the  visitors,  the  pink,  white, 
and  green  glamour  of  their  presence  floated  away  from  before 
my  eyes  like  a  radiant  mist,  and  I  saw  plain  fact  instead. 

By  plain  fact  I  mean  to  denote  Felicite,  my  French  cook- 
housekeeper,  my  all  of  domesticity  in  the  Chalet  des  Pins. 

Felicite  might  be  considered  plain  by  strangers,  and  thank 
heaven  she  is  a  fact,  or  life  at  my  little  villa  on  the  Riviera  would 
be  a  hundred  times  less  pleasant  than  it  is;  but  she  is  neverthe 
less  as  near  to  being  an  angel  as  a  fat,  elderly,  golden-hearted, 
sweet-natured,  profane-speaking,  hot-tempered  peasant  woman 
of  Provence  can  possibly  be.  Whatever  the  greatest  geniuses  of 
the  kitchen  can  do,  Felicite  can  and  will  do,  and  she  has  a  loyal 
affection  for  her  undeserving  master,  which  leads  her  to  attempt 
miracles  and  almost  invariably  to  accomplish  them. 

There  are,  however,  things  which  even  Felicite  cannot  do ;  and 
it  had  suddenly  struck  me  coldly  in  the  sunshine  that  to  produce 
proper  cakes  and  rich  cream  at  ten  minutes'  notice  in  a  creamless 
and  cakeless  bachelor  villa,  miles  from  anywhere  in  particular, 
might  be  beyond  even  her  genius. 

I  found  her  in  the  back  garden,  forcibly  separating  the  family 
pet,  a  somewhat  moth-eaten  duck,  from  the  yellow  cat  whose 
mouse  he  had  just  annexed  by  violence. 

With  language  which  told  me  that  a  considerable  quantity  of 
pepper  had  got  into  her  disposition  (as  it  does  with  most  cooks, 
according  to  my  theory)  she  was  admonishing  the  delinquent, 
whom  she  mercilessly  threatened  to  behead  and  cook  for  dinner 
that  evening.  "  You  have  been  spared  too  long;  the  best  place  for 
you  is  on  the  table,"  I  heard  her  lecturing  the  evil  cannibal, 
"  though  the  saints  know  that  you  are  as  tough  as  you  are  wicked, 
and  all  the  sauce  in  the  Alpes  Maritimes  would  not  make  of  you 
a  pleasant  morsel,  especially  since  you  have  taken  to  eating  the 
cat's  mice." 

"  Felicite,"  I  broke  in  upon  her  flood  of  eloquence,  in  my  most 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SURPRISES  13 

winning  tones.  "Something  has  happened.  Three  ladies  have 
come  unexpectedly  to  tea." 

The  round  body  straightened  itself  and  stood  erect.  "  Monsieur 
well  knows  that  there  is  no  tea;  neither  he  nor  the  other  milord 
ever  take  anything  but  coffee  and  whisk  — 

"  Never  mind,"  said  I  hastily.  "  There  must  be  tea,  because  I 
asked  the  ladies  to  have  some,  and  they  have  said  yes.  There  must 
also  be  lettuce  sandwiches,  and  cakes,  and  cream — plenty,  lots, 
heaps,  for  five  people." 

"  As  well  ask  that  serpent  of  wickedness,  your  duck,  to  lay 
you  five  eggs  in  as  many  minutes." 

"  He  is  n't  my  duck;  he  's  yours.  You  won  him  in  a  raffle  and 
adopted  him.  I  suspect  it  's  a  physical  impossibility  for  him  to 
lay  eggs ;  but  look  here,  Felicite,  dear,  kind,  good  Felicite,  don't 
go  back  on  me.  Man  and  boy  I  've  known  you  these  eighteen 
months,  and  you  've  never  failed  me  yet.  Don't  fail  me  now.  I 
depend  on  you,  you  know,  and  you  must  do  something  —  any 
thing  —  for  the  honour  of  the  house." 

"  Does  Monsieur  think  I  can  command  tea,  cakes,  and  cream 
from  the  tiles  of  the  kitchen  floor  ?  " 

"No;  but  I  firmly  believe  you  can  evolve  them  out  of 
your  inner  consciousness.  You  would  n't  have  me  lose  faith  in 
you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Felicite,  whose  eyes  suddenly  brightened  with  the 
rapt  look  of  one  inspired.  "  No;  I  would  not  have  Monsieur  lose 
faith.  I  will  do  what  I  can,  as  Monsieur  says,  for  the  honour  of 
the  house.  Let  him  go  now  to  his  friends,  and  make  his  mind 
easy.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  twenty  minutes  at  most,  he  shall 
have  a  feef  o'clocky  for  which  he  need  not  blush." 

"  Angel! "  I  ejaculated  fervently,  patting  the  substantial  shoul 
der,  so  much  to  be  depended  upon.  Then  with  a  buoyant  step  I 
hastened  round  the  house  to  rejoin  the  party  in  the  front  garden, 
where,  I  anxiously  realized,  the  tables  might  have  been  com 
pletely  turned  during  my  absence. 

Ready  to  hurl  myself  into  the  breach,  if  there  were  one,  I  came 


14  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

round  the  corner  of  the  villa,  to  meet  the  unexpected.  I  had  left 
Terry  with  three  ladies ;  I  found  him  with  seven. 

Evidently  he  had  gone  into  the  drawing-room  and  fetched 
chairs,  for  they  were  all  sitting  down,  but  they  were  not  being 
sociable.  Mrs.  Kidder's  round  chin  was  in  the  air,  and  she  wore 
an  "  I  'm  as  good  as  you  are,  if  not  better  "  expression.  The  imps 
in  Beechy's  eyes  were  critically  cataloguing  each  detail  of  the 
strangers'  costumes,  and  Miss  Destrey  was  interested  in  the  yel 
low  cat,  who  had  come  to  tell  her  the  tragic  tale  of  the  stolen 
mouse. 

The  new  arrivals  were  English.  I  can't  explain  exactly  how  I 
knew  that,  the  moment  I  clapped  eyes  on  them,  but  I  did;  and  I 
felt  sure  their  nearest  male  relative  must  have  made  money  in. 
beer,  pickles,  or  it  might  have  been  corsets  or  soap.  They  were 
that  kind ;  and  they  had  a  great  many  teeth,  especially  the  daugh 
ters,  who  all  three  looked  exactly  thirty,  no  more  and  no  less,  and 
were  apparently  pleasantly  conscious  of  superlative  virtue. 

I  could  see  the  house  they  lived  in,  in  England.  It  would  be  in 
Surbiton,  of  course,  with  "  extensive  grounds."  There  would  be  a 
Debrett's  "  Peerage,"  and  a  Burke's  "  Landed  Gentry,"  and  a 
volume  of  "  Etiquette  of  Smart  Society  "  on  the  library  shelves,  if 
there  was  nothing  else;  and  in  the  basket  on  the  hall  table  the 
visiting  cards  of  any  titled  beings  of  the  family's  acquaintance 
would  invariably  rise  to  the  top  like  cream. 

"  I  understand  from  your  friend  that  it  is  your  advertisement 
which  appears  in  The  Riviera  Sun  to-day,"  began  the  Mother, 
whose  aspect  demanded  a  capital  M.  "  You  are  Sir  Ralph  Moray, 
I  believe?" 

I  acknowledged  my  identity,  and  the  lady  continued :  "  I  am 
Mrs.  Fox-Porston.  You  will  have  heard  of  my  husband,  no 
doubt,  and  I  daresay  we  know  a  great  many  of  the  same  People 
at  Home."  (This  with  a  dust-brush  glance  which  swept  the  Amer 
icans  out  of  the  field.)  "  I  think  it  is  a  very  excellent  idea  of  yours, 
Sir  Ralph,  to  travel  about  the  Continent  on  your  motor-car  with  a 
few  congenial  companions,  and  I  have  brought  my  daughters 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SURPRISES  15 

with  me  to-day  in  the  hope  that  we  may  arrange  a  delightful  little 
tour  which  —  " 

"  Ting-a-ling  "  at  the  gate  bell  robbed  us  of  Mrs.  Fox-Porston's 
remaining  hope,  and  gave  us  two  more  visitors. 

Little  had  I  known  what  the  consequences  of  one  small,  pink 
advertisement  would  be !  Apparently  it  bade  fair  to  let  loose  upon 
us,  not  the  dogs  of  war,  but  the  whole  floating  feminine  popula 
tion  of  the  French  Riviera.  Something  must  be  done,  and  done 
promptly,  to  stem  the  rising  tide  of  ladies,  or  the  Chalet  des 
Pins  and  Terry  and  I  with  it,  would  be  swamped. 

I  looked  at  Terry,  he  looked  at  me,  as  we  rose  like  mechanical 
figures  to  indicate  our  hosthood  to  the  new  arrivals. 

They  were  Americans ;  I  could  tell  by  their  chins.  They  had  no 
complexions  and  no  particular  age;  they  wore  blue  tissue  veils, 
and  little  jingling  bags  on  their  belts,  which  showed  that  they 
were  not  married,  because  if  they  had  been,  their  husbands 
would  have  ordered  the  little  jingling  bags  into  limbo,  wherever 
that  may  be. 

"  Good-afternoon,"  said  the  leading  Blue  Veil.  "  I  am  Miss 
Carrie  Hood  Woodall,  the  lady  lawyer  from  Hoboken,  who  had 
such  a  nice  little  paragraph  in  The  Riviera  Sun,  close  to  your  ad 
vertisement;  and  this  is  my  chaperone,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Boat 
Cully.  We  're  touring  Europe,  and  we  want  to  take  a  trip  with 
you  in  your  automobile,  if  —  " 

"Unfortunately,  ladies,"  said  I,  "the  services  of  —  er  —  my 
car  are  already  engaged  to  Mrs.  Kidder,  of  Colorado,  and  her 
party.  Is  n't  it  so,  Barrymore  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Terry  stoutly.  And  that  "yes"  even  if  inadver 
tent,  was  equivalent  I  considered,  to  sign  and  seal. 

Mrs.  Kidder  beamed  like  an  understudy  for  The  Riviera  Sun. 
Beechy  twinkled  demurely,  and  tossed  her  plaits  over  her  shoul 
der.  Even  Miss  Destrey,  the  white  goddess,  deigned  to  smile, 
straight  at  Terry  and  no  other. 

At  this  moment  Felicite  appeared  with  a  tray.  Whipped  cream 
frothed  over  the  brow  of  a  brown  jug  like  a  white  wig  on  the  fore- 


16  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

head  of  a  judge;  lettuce  showed  pale  green  through  filmy  sand 
wiches  ;  small  round  cakes  were  piled,  crisp  and  appetizing,  on  a 
cracked  Sevres  dish;  early  strawberries  glowed  red  among  their 
own  leaves.  Talk  of  the  marengo  trick !  It  was  nothing  to  this.  The 
miracle  had  been  duly  performed ;  but  —  there  were  only  five 
cups. 

Mrs.  Fox-Porston  and  her  daughters,  Miss  Carrie  Hood 
Woodall  and  her  chaperone,  took  the  hint  and  their  leave;  and 
the  companions  of  the  future  were  left  alone  together  to  talk 
over  their  plans. 

"Lock  the  gate,  Felicite,"  said  I.  "  Do  make  haste!"  And 
she  did.  Dear  Felicite ! 


II 

A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS 

SO  it  is  that  Fate  calmly  arranges  our  lives  in  spite  of  us. 
Although  no  details  of  the  coming  trip  were  settled 
during  what  remained  of  our  new  employers'  visit,  that 
was  their  fault  and  the  fault  of  a  singularly  premature 
sunset,  rather  than  mine,  or  even  Terry's ;  and  we  both  felt  that 
it  came  to  the  same  thing.  We  were  in  honour  bound  to  "  person 
ally  conduct"  Mrs.  Kidder,  Miss   Beechy  Kidder,  and  Miss 
Destrey  towards  whatever  point  of  the  compass  a  guiding  finger 
of  theirs  should  signify. 

It  has  always  been  my  motto  to  take  Father  Time  by  the  fore 
lock,  for  fear  he  should  cut  it  off,  or  get  away,  or  play  some  other 
trick  upon  me,  which  the  cantankerous  old  chap  (no  parent  of 
mine ! )  is  fond  of  doing.  Therefore,  if  I  could,  I  would  have  had 
terms,  destination,  day  and  hour  of  starting  definitely  arranged 
before  that  miraculously-produced  tea  of  Felicite's  had  turned  to 
tannin.  But  man  may  not  walk  through  a  solid  wall,  or  strive 
against  such  conversational  gifts  as  those  of  Mrs.  Kidder. 

She  could  and  would  keep  to  anything  except  the  point.  That, 
whatever  its  nature,  she  avoided  as  she  would  an  indelicacy. 

"  Well,  now,  Mrs.  Kidder,"  I  began,  "  if  you  really  want  us  to 
organize  this  tour,  don't  you  think  we  'd  better  discuss  — 

"  Of  course  we  want  you  to ! "  she  broke  in.  "  We  all  think  it 's 
just  awfully  good  of  you  to  bother  with  us  when  you  must  have 
so  many  friends  who  want  you  to  take  them  —  English  people  in 
your  own  set.  By  the  way,  do  you  know  the  Duchess  of  Car- 
borough  ?  " 

17 


18  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  I  know  very  few  duchesses  or  other  Americans,"  I  replied. 
Whereupon  Miss  Kidder's  imp  laughed,  though  her  mother  re 
mained  grave,  and  even  looked  mildly  disappointed. 

"That 's  a  funny  way  of  putting  it,"  said  Beechy.  "  One  would 
think  it  was  quite  an  American  habit,  being  a  Duchess." 

"  So  it  is,  is  n't  it  ?  "  I  asked.  "  The  only  reason  we  need  n't  fear 
its  growing  like  the  Yellow  Peril  is  because  there  are  n't  enough 
dukes.  I  've  always  thought  the  American  nation  the  most  fa 
voured  in  the  world.  Are  n't  all  your  girls  brought  up  to  expect  to 
be  duchesses,  and  your  men  presidents  ?  " 

"  /  was  n't,"  snapped  Beechy.  "  If  there  was  a  duke  anywhere 
around,  Mamma  would  take  him,  if  she  had  to  snatch  him  out  of 
my  mouth.  What  are  English  girls  brought  up  to  expect  ?  " 

"  Hope  for,  not  expect,"  I  corrected  her.  "  Any  leavings  there 
are  in  the  way  of  marquesses  or  earls ;  or  if  none,  a  mere  bishop 
oraC.  B." 

"What 's  a  C.  B.  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Kidder  anxiously. 

"A  Companion  of  the  Bath." 

"  My  goodness !  Whose  bath  ?  " 

"The  Bath  of  Royalty.  We  say  it  with  a  capital  B." 

"  My !  How  awkward  for  your  King.  And  what  was  done  about 
it  when  you  had  only  a  Queen  on  the  throne  ?  " 

"You  must  inquire  of  the  chamberlains,"  I  replied.  "But 
about  that  trip  of  ours.  The  —  er  —  my  car  is  in  a  garage  not 
far  away,  and  it  can  be  ready  when  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  it 's  a  red  car,  with  your  coat  of  arms  on  it.  I  do 
so  admire  red  for  an  automobile.  We  could  all  fix  ourselves  up  in 
red  cloaks  and  hats  to  match,  and  make  ourselves  look  awfully 
swell  _  » 

"  Everybody  'd  call  us  'The  Crimson  Ramblers,'  or '  The  Scar 
let  Runners,'  or  something  else  horrid,"  tittered  that  precocious 
child  Beechy. 

"  It  is  n't  red,  it 's  grey,"  Terry  managed  hastily  to  interpolate; 
which  settled  one  burning  question,  the  first  which  had  been  set 
tled  or  seemed  likely  to  be  settled  at  our  present  rate  of  progress. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS  19 

"  If  you  are  keen  on  starting  —  "I  essayed  again,  hope  tri 
umphing  over  experience. 

"  Yes,  I  'm  just  looking  forward  to  that  start,"  Mrs.  Kidder 
caught  me  up.  "  We  shall  make  a  sensation.  We  're  neighbours 
of  yours,  you  know.  We  're  at  the  Cap  Martin  Hotel.  Is  n't  it  per 
fectly  lovely  there,  with  that  big  garden,  the  woods  and  all? 
When  we  were  coming  to  the  Riviera,  I  told  the  man  at  Cook's 
that  we  wanted  to  go  to  the  grandest  hotel  there  was,  where  we 
could  feel  we  were  getting  our  money's  worth;  and  he  said  all 
the  kings  and  princes,  and  queens  and  princesses  went  to  the 
Cap  Martin,  so  —  " 

"We  thought  it  might  be  good  enough  for  us,"  capped 
Beechy. 

"  It  's  as  full  of  royalties,  as  —  as  —  " 

"  As  a  pack  of  cards,"  I  suggested. 

"  And  some  of  them  have  splendid  automobiles.  I  've  been 
envying  them;  and  only  this  morning  I  was  saying  to  my  little 
girl,  what  a  lot  of  nice  things  there  are  that  women  and  children 
can't  do,  travelling  alone  —  automobiling  for  one.  Then,  when  I 
came  on  that  advertisement  of  yours,  I  just  screamed.  It  did  seem 
as  if  the  Hand  of  Providence  must  have  been  pointing  it  out. 
And  it  was  so  funny  your  home  being  on  the  Cap,  too,  within  ten 
minutes'  walk  of  our  hotel.  I  'm  sure  it  was  meant,  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  certain,"  I  responded,  with  a  glance  at  Terry, 
who  was  not  showing  himself  off  to  any  advantage  in  this  scene 
although  he  ought  to  have  been  the  leading  actor.  He  did  nothing 
but  raise  his  eyebrows  when  he  thought  that  no  one  was  looking, 
or  tug  at  his  moustache  most  imprudently  when  somebody  was. 
Or  else  he  handed  the  cakes  to  Miss  Destrey,  and  forgot  to  offer 
them  to  her  far  more  important  relatives.  "  I  'm  so  sure  of  it,"  I 
went  on,  "  that  I  think  we  had  better  arrange  —  " 

"Yes,  indeed.  Of  course  your  ch  —  Mr.  Barrymore  (or  did 
I  hear  you  say  Terrymore  ?  )  is  a  very  experienced  driver  ?  We  've 
never  been  in  an  automobile  yet,  any  of  us,  and  I  'm  afraid, 
though  it  will  be  perfectly  lovely  as  soon  as  we  're  used  to  it,  that 


^0  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

we  may  be  a  little  scary  at  first.  So  it  would  be  nice  to  know  for 
sure  that  the  driver  understood  how  to  act  in  any  emergency.  I 
should  hate  to  be  killed  in  an  automobile.  It  would  be  such  — 
such  an  untidy  death  to  die,  judging  from  what  you  read  in  the 
papers  sometimes." 

"  I  should  prefer  it,  myself,"  I  said,  "  but  that 's  a  matter  of 
taste,  and  you  may  trust  Terry  —  Mr.  Barrymore.  What  he 
does  n't  know  about  a  motor-car  and  its  inner  and  outer  work 
ings  is  n't  worth  knowing.  So  when  we  go  —  " 

"  Aunt  K  —  I  mean  Kittie,  don't  you  think  we  ought  to  go 
home  to  the  hotel?"  asked  Miss  Destrey,  who  had  scarcely 
spoken  until  now,  except  to  answer  a  question  or  two  of  Terry's, 
whom  she  apparently  chose  to  consider  in  the  Martyr's  Boat, 
with  herself.  "We've  been  here  for  hours,  and  it's  getting 
dark." 

"Why,  so  it  is!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kidder,  rising  hurriedly. 
"  I  'm  quite  ashamed  of  myself  for  staying  so  long.  What  will  you 
think  of  us  ?  But  we  had  such  a  lot  of  things  to  arrange,  had  n't 
we?" 

We  had  had;  and  we  had  them  still.  But  that  was  a  detail. 

"  We  must  go,"  she  went  on.  "  Well,  we  've  decided  nearly 
everything"  (this  was  news  to  me).  "But  there  are  one  or  two 
things  yet  we  '11  have  to  talk  over,  I  suppose." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  I. 

"Could  you  and  Mr.  Terrymore  come  and  dine  with  us  to 
night  ?  Then  we  can  fix  everything  up." 

"  Speaking  for  myself,  I  'm  afraid  I  can't,  thanks  very  much," 
Terry  said,  hastily. 

"  What  about  you,  Sir  Ralph  ?  I  may  call  you  Sir  Ralph,  may  I 
not?" 

"  Please.  It 's  my  name." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.  But  it  sounds  so  familiar,  from  a  stranger.  I 
was  wondering  if  one  ought  to  say  '  Sir  Ralph  Moray,'  till  one 
had  been  acquainted  a  little  longer.  Well,  anyway,  if  you  could 
dine  with  us,  without  your  friend  —  " 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS  21 

I  also  thanked  her  and  said  that  matters  would  arrange  them 
selves  more  easily  if  B anymore  and  I  were  together. 

"  Then  can  you  both  lunch  with  us  to-morrow  at  one  o'clock  ?  " 

Quickly,  before  Terry  could  find  time  to  object  if  he  medi 
tated  doing  so,  I  accepted  with  enthusiasm. 

Farewells  were  exchanged,  and  we  had  walked  to  the  gate 
with  the  ladies  —  I  heading  the  procession  with  Mrs.  Kidder, 
Terry  bringing  up  the  rear  with  the  two  girls  —  when  my  com 
panion  stopped  suddenly.  "  Oh,  there  's  just  one  thing  I  ought  to 
mention  before  you  come  to  see  us  at  the  hotel,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  catch  of  the  breath.  Evidently  she  was  embarrassed.  "  I  in 
troduced  myself  to  you  as  Mrs.  Kidder,  because  I  'm  used  to  that 
name,  and  it  comes  more  natural.  I  keep  forgetting  always,  but 
-  but  perhaps  you  'd  better  ask  at  the  hotel  for  the  Countess 
Dalmar.  I  guess  you  're  rather  surprised,  though  you  're  too 
polite  to  say  so,  my  being  an  American  and  having  that  title." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  assured  her.  "  So  many  charming  Americans 
marry  titled  foreigners,  that  one  is  almost  more  surprised  - 

"  But  I  have  n't  married  a  foreigner.  Did  n't  I  tell  you  that  I  'm 
a  widow  ?  No,  the  only  husband  I  ever  had  was  Simon-  P.  Kidder. 
But  —  but  I  've  bought  an  estate,  and  the  title  goes  with  it,  so  it 
would  seem  like  a  kind  of  waste  of  money  not  to  use  it,  you  see." 

"  It 's  the  estate  that  goes  with  the  title,  for  you,  Mamma," 
said  Beechy  (she  invariably  pronounces  her  parent  "  Momma  "). 
"  You  know  you  just  love  being  a  Countess.  You  're  happier  than 
I  ever  was  with  a  new  doll  that  opened  and  shut  its  eyes." 

"Don't  be  silly,  Beechy.  Little  girls  should  be  seen  and  not 
heard.  As  I  was  saying,  I  thought  it  better  to  use  the  title.  That 
was  the  advice  of  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm,  of  whom  I  've  bought 
this  estate  in  some  part  of  Austria,  or  I  think,  Dalmatia  —  I  'm 
not  quite  sure  about  the  exact  situation  yet,  as  it 's  all  so  recent. 
But  to  get  used  to  bearing  the  title,  it  seemed  best  to  begin  right 
away,  so  I  registered  as  the  Countess  Dalmar  when  we  came  to 
the  Cap  Martin  Hotel  a  week  ago." 

"  Quite  sensible,  Countess,"  I  said  without  looking  at  Beechy- 


22  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

of -the- Attendant-Imps.  "  I  know  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  well  by 
reputation,  though  I  've  never  happened  to  meet  him.  He  's  a 
very  familiar  figure  on  the  Riviera."  (I  might  have  added,  "  espe 
cially  in  the  Casino  at  Monte  Carlo,"  but  I  refrained,  as  I  had 
not  yet  learned  the  Countess's  opinion  of  gambling  as  an  occupa 
tion.)  "Did  you  meet  him  here  for  the  first  time?" 

"No;  I  met  him  in  Paris,  where  we  stopped  for  awhile  after 
we  crossed,  before  we  came  here.  I  was  so  surprised  when  I  saw 
him  at  our  hotel  the  very  day  after  we  arrived !  It  seemed  such  a 
coincidence,  that  our  only  acquaintance  over  on  this  side  should 
arrive  at  the  same  place  when  we  did." 

"  When  is  a  coincidence  not  a  coincidence  ?  "  pertly  inquired 
Miss  Beechy.  "  Can  you  guess  that  conundrum,  Cousin  Maida  ?  " 

"  You  naughty  girl ! "  exclaimed  her  mother. 

"  Well,  you  like  me  to  be  childish,  don't  you  ?  And  it 's  childish 
to  be  naughty." 

"  Come,  we  '11  go  home  at  once,"  said  the  Countess,  uneasily; 
and  followed  by  the  tall  girl  and  the  little  one,  she  tottered  away, 
sweeping  yards  of  chiffon. 

"  I  do  hope  she  won't  wear  things  like  that  when  she  's  in  — 
ahem !  —  our  motor-car,"  I  remarked  sotto  voce,  as  Terry  and  I 
stood  at  the  gate,  watching,  if  not  speeding,  our  parting 
guests. 

"  I  doubt  very  much  if  she  '11  ever  be  there,"  prophesied  Terry, 
looking  handsome  and  thoroughly  Celtic,  wrapped  in  his  pano 
ply  of  gloom. 

"  Come  away  in,  while  I  see  if  I  can  find  you  '  The  harp  that 
once  through  Tara's  halls,'  to  play  your  own  funeral  dirge  on," 
said  I.  "  You  look  as  if  it  would  be  the  only  thing  to  do  you  any 
good." 

"  It  would  certainly  relieve  my  feelings,"  replied  Terry,  "  but  I 
could  do  that  just  as  well  by  punching  your  head,  which  would  be 
simpler.  Of  all  the  infernal  —  " 

"Now  don't  be  brutal!"  I  implored.  "You  were  quite  pleas 
ant  before  the  ladies.  Don't  be  a  whited  sepulchre  the  minute 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS  23 

their  backs  are  turned.  Think  what  I  've  gone  through  since  I 
was  alone  with  you  last,  you  great  hulking  animal." 

"Animal  yourself!"  Terry  had  the  ingratitude  to  retort. 
''What  have  I  gone  through,  I  should  like  to  ask  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  've  gone  through,  but  I  know  how 
you  behaved,"  I  returned,  as  we  walked  back  to  the  magnolia 
tree.  "  Like  a  sulky  barber's  block  —  I  mean  a  barber's  sulky 
block.  No,  I  —  but  it  does  n't  signify.  Hullo,  there  's  the  univer 
sal  provider,  carrying  off  the  tray.  Felicite,  mon  ange,  say  how 
you  summoned  that  tea  and  those  cakes  and  cream  from  the 
vasty  deep  ?  " 

"What  Monsieur  is  pleased  to  mean,  I  know  not,"  my  four- 
teen-stone  angel  replied.  "  I  visited  with  haste  a  friend  of  mine  at 
the  hotel,  and  I  came  back  with  the  things  —  that  is  all.  It  was 
an  inspiration,"  and  she  sailed  away,  her  head  in  the  air. 

Terry  and  I  went  into  the  house,  for  the  sun  had  left  the  high- 
walled  garden,  and  besides,  the  talk  we  were  going  to  have  was 
more  suitable  to  that  practical  region,  my  smoking-room-study- 
den,  than  to  the  romantic  shade  of  a  magnolia  tree. 

We  unpocketed  our  pipes,  and  smoked  for  several  minutes  be 
fore  we  spoke.  I  vowed  that  Terry  should  begin ;  but  as  he  went 
on  puffing  until  I  had  counted  sixty-nine  slowly,  I  thought  it  sim 
pler  to  unvow  the  vow  before  it  had  had  time  to  harden. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Paddy,"  was  the  sum  I  offered 
with  engaging  lightness.  "  Which  is  generous  of  me,  as  I  know 
them  already.  You  are  thinking  of  Her." 

Teddy  forgot  to  misunderstand,  which  was  a  bad  sign. 

"  If  it  were  n't  for  Her,  I  'd  have  got  out  of  the  scrape  at  any 
price,"  said  he,  bold  as  brass.  "  But  I  'm  sorry  for  that  beautiful 
creature.  She  must  lead  a  beastly  life,  between  a  silly,  overdressed 
woman  and  a  pert  minx.  Poor  child,  she  's  evidently  as  hard  up 
as  I  am,  or  she  would  n't  stand  it.  She  's  miserable  with  them, 
I  could  see." 

"  So  you  consented  to  fall  into  my  web,  rather  than  leave  her  to 
their  mercy." 


24  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  Not  exactly  that,  but  —  well,  I  can't  explain  it.  The  die  's 
cast,  anyhow.  I  'm  pledged  to  join  the  menagerie.  But  look  here, 
Ralph,  do  you  understand  what  you  've  let  me  in  for  ?  " 

"  For  the  society  of  three  charming  Americans,  two  of  whom 
are  no  doubt  worth  their  weight  in  gold." 

"  It 's  precisely  their  weight  that 's  on  my  mind  at  this  mo 
ment.  You  may  know  one  or  two  little  things,  my  dear  boy,  but 
among  them  motoring  is  not,  otherwise  when  you  were  putting 
that  mad  advertisement  into  your  pink  rag,  you  would  have 
stopped  to  reflect  that  a  twelve-horse  power  car  is  not  expected  to 
carry  five  grown  persons  up  airy  mountains  and  down  rushy 
glens.  Europe  is  n't  perfectly  flat,  remember." 

"  Only  four  of  us  are  grown  up.  Beechy  's  an  Infant  Phe 
nomenon." 

"Infant  be  hanged.  She  's  sixteen  if  she  's  a  day." 

"  Her  mother  ought  to  know." 

"  She  does  n't  want  any  one  else  to  know.  Anyway,  I  'm  big 
enough  to  make  up  the  difference.  And  besides,  my  car's  not  a 
new  one.  I  paid  a  thumping  price  for  her,  but  that  was  two  years 
ago.  There  have  been  improvements  in  the  make  since." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  car  of  yours  can't  carry  five  peo 
ple  half  across  the  world  if  necessary  ?  " 

"  She  can,  but  not  at  an  exciting  speed ;  and  Americans  want 
excitement.  Not  only  that,  but  you  saw  for  yourself  that  they  ex 
pect  a  handsome  car  of  the  latest  make,  shining  with  brass  and 
varnish.  Amateurs  always  do.  What  will  they  say  when  my 
world-worn  old  veteran  bursts,  or  rather  bumbles,  into  view  ?  " 

I  felt  slightly  crestfallen,  for  the  first  time.  When  one  is  an  edi 
tor,  one  does  n't  like  to  think  one  has  been  caught  napping.  "  You 
said  you  ought  to  get  two  hundred  pounds  for  your  Panhard,  if 
you  sold  it,"  I  reminded  him.  "That 's  a  good  deal  of  money. 
Naturally  I  thought  the  motor  must  be  a  fairly  decent  one,  to 
command  that  price  after  several  seasons'  wear  and  tear." 

Terry  fired  up  instantly,  as  I  had  hoped  he  would ;  for  his  car 
is  the  immediate  jewel  of  his  soul.  "Decent!"  he  echoed.  "I 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS  25 

should  rather  think  she  is.  But  just  as  there  's  a  limit  to  your  in 
telligence,  so  is  there  a  limit  to  her  power,  and  I  don't  want  it  to 
come  to  that.  However,  the  thing  's  gone  too  far  for  me  to  draw 
back.  It  must  depend  upon  the  ladies.  If  they  don't  back  out 
when  they  see  my  car,  I  won't." 

"To  all  intents  and  purposes  it 's  my  car  now,"  said  I.  "You 
made  her  over  to  me  before  witnesses,  and  I  think  I  shall  have  her 
smartened  up  with  a  bit  of  red  paint  and  a  crest." 

"  If  you  try  on  anything  like  that,  you  can  drive  her  yourself, 
for  I  won't.  I  like  her  old  grey  dress.  I  would  n't  feel  at  home  with 
her  in  any  other.  And  she  sha'  n't  be  trimmed  with  crests  to 
make  an  American  holiday.  She  goes  as  she  is,  or  not  at  all,  my 
boy." 

"  You  are  the  hardest  chap  to  do  anything  for  I  ever  saw,"  I 
groaned,  with  the  justifiable  annoyance  of  a  martyr  who  has 
failed  to  convert  a  pagan  hero.  "  As  if  you  had  n't  made  things 
difficult  enough  already  by  *  Mistering '  yourself.  At  any  moment 
you  may  be  found  out  —  though,  on  second  thoughts,  it  won't 
matter  a  rap  if  you  are.  If  you  're  a  mere  Mister,  you  are  often 
obliged  to  appear  before  an  unsympathetic  police  magistrate  for 
pretending  to  be  a  Lord.  But  I  never  heard  of  a  Lord's  falling 
foul  of  the  law  for  pretending  to  be  a  Mister." 

"  If  you  behave  yourself,  there  is  n't  much  danger  of  my  being 
found  out  by  any  of  the  people  most  concerned,  during  a  few 
weeks'  motoring  on  the  Continent ;  but  it 's  to  be  hoped  they  won't 
select  England,  Scotland,  or  Ireland  for  their  tour." 

"  We  can  tell  them  that  conditions  are  less  favourable  for  mo 
toring  at  home  —  which  is  quite  true,  judging  from  the  com 
plaints  I  hear  from  motor-men." 

"But  look  here;  you  let  me  in  for  this.  What  I  did  was  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  and  in  self-defence.  I  did  n't  dream  then 
that  I  should  be,  first  cornered  by  you,  then  led  on  by  circum 
stances  into  engaging  as  chauffeur,  to  drive  my  own  car  on  such  a 
wild-goose  chase." 

"  It 's  a  wild  goose  that  will  lay  golden  eggs.  Fifteen  guineas  a 


26  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

day,  my  son;  that 's  the  size  of  the  egg  which  that  beneficent  bird 
will  drop  into  your  palm  every  twenty -four  hours.  Deduct  the 
ladies'  hotel  expenses  —  say  three  guineas  a  day;  expenses  for 
yourself  and  car  we  '11  call  two  guineas  more  (of  course  I  pay  my 
own  way),  that  leaves  you  as  profit  ten  guineas  daily;  seventy 
guineas  a  week,  or  at  the  rate  of  three  thousand  five  hundred 
guineas  per  annum.  Before  you  'd  spent  your  little  patrimony, 
and  been  refused  an  —  er  —  fratrimony,  you  were  n't  half  as 
well  off  as  that.  You  might  do  worse  than  pass  your  whole  life  as 
a  Personal  Conductor  on  those  terms.  And  instead  of  thanking 
the  wise  friend  who  has  caught  this  goose  for  you,  and  is  willing 
to  leave  his  own  peaceful  duck  for  your  sake,  with  no  remunera 
tion,  you  abuse  him." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  'm  not  exactly  abusing  you,  for  I  know  you 
meant  well.  But  you  've  swept  me  off  my  feet,  and  I  'm  not  at 
home  yet  in  mid  air." 

"  You  can  lie  on  your  back  and  roll  in  gold  in  the  intervals  of 
driving  the  car.  I  promise  not  to  give  you  away.  Still,  it 's  a 
pity  you  would  n't  consent  to  trading  a  little  on  your  title,  which 
Heaven  must  have  given  you  for  some  good  purpose.  As  it  is, 
you  've  made  my  tuppenny-ha'penny  baronetcy  the  only  bait, 
and  that  's  no  catch  at  all  for  an  American  millionairess,  fishing 
for  something  big  in  Aristocracy  Pond.  Why,  when  that  Prince  of 
hers  discovers  what  is  doing,  he  will  persuade  the  fair  Countess 
Dalmar  that  she  's  paying  a  high  price  for  a  Nobody  —  a  No- 
body-at-All." 

'*  What  makes  you  think  he  does  n't  know  already,  as  he  evi 
dently  followed  the  party  here,  and  must  be  constantly  dangling 
about?" 

"  My  detective  instinct,  which  two  seasons  of  pink  journalism 
has  developed.  Mrs.  Kidder  saw  the  advertisement  this  morning, 
and  was  caught  by  it.  May  Sherlock  Holmes  cut  me  in  the  street 
if  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  has  n't  been  away  for  the  day,  doubtless 
at  Monte  Carlo  where  he  has  lost  most  of  his  own  money,  and 
will  send  the  Countess's  to  find  it,  if  she  gives  him  the  chance." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLANS  27 

"  I  never  saw  the  fellow,  or  heard  of  him,  so  far  as  I  can  remem 
ber,"  said  Terry  thoughtfully.  "  What 's  he  like  ?  Middle-aged, 
stout  ?  " 

"  He  looks  thirty,  so  he  is  probably  forty ;  for  if  you  look  your 
age,  you  are  probably  ten  years  past  it  —  though  that  sounds  a 
bit  more  Irish  than  Scotch,  eh  ?  And  he  's  far  from  being  stout. 
From  a  woman's  point  of  view,  I  should  say  he  might  be  very  at 
tractive.  Tall;  thin;  melancholy;  enormous  eyes;  moustache 
waxed ;  scar  on  forehead ;  successful  effect  of  dashing  soldier,  but 
not  much  under  the  effect,  I  should  say,  except  inordinate  self- 
esteem,  and  a  masterly  selfishness  which  would  take  what  it 
wanted  at  almost  any  cost  to  others.  There  's  a  portrait  of  Prince 
Dalmar-Kalm  for  you." 

"Evidently  not  the  sort  of  man  who  ought  to  be  allowed  to 
hang  about  young  girls." 

"  Young  girls  with  money.  Don't  worry  about  the  vestal  vir 
gin.  He  won't  have  time  in  this  game  to  bother  with  poor  rela 
tions,  no  matter  how  pretty  they  may  happen  to  be." 

Terry  still  looked  thoughtful.  "  Well,  if  we  are  going  in  for  this 
queer  business,  we  'd  better  get  off  as  soon  as  possible,"  said  he. 

I  smiled  in  my  sleeve.  "  St.  George  in  a  stew  to  get  the  Princess 
out  of  the  dragon's  claws,"  I  thought;  but  I  refrained  from  speak 
ing  the  thought  aloud.  Whatever  the  motive,  the  wish  was  to  be 
encouraged.  The  sooner  the  wild  goose  laid  the  first  golden  egg 
the  better.  Fortunately  for  my  private  interests,  the  season  was 
waning  and  the  coming  week  would  see  the  setting  of  my  Riviera 
Sun  until  next  November.  I  could  therefore  get  away,  leaving 
what  remained  of  the  work  to  be  done  by  my  "  sub  " ;  and  I  deter 
mined  that,  Prince  or  no  Prince,  luncheon  to-morrow  should  not 
pass  without  a  business  arrangement  being  completed  between 
the  parties. 


Ill 

A  CHAPTER  OF  REVENGES 

MRS.  KIDDER,  alias  the   Countess   Dalmar,   either 
had  a  fondness  for  lavish  hospitality  or  else  she  con 
sidered  us  exceptionally  distinguished  guests.  Our 
feast  was  not  laid  in  a  private  dining-room  (what  is 
the  good  of  having  distinguished  guests  if  nobody  is  to  know 
you  've  got  them  ?) ;  nevertheless,  it  was  a  feast.  The  small  round 
table,  close  to  one  of  the  huge  windows  of  the  restaurant,  was  a 
condensed  flower-show.  Our  plates  and  glasses  (there  were  many 
of  the  latter)  peeped  at  us  from  a  bower  of  roses,  and  bosky  dells 
of  greenery.  The  Countess  and  the  Infant  were  dressed  as  for  a 
royal  garden  party,  and  Terry  and  I  would  have  felt  like  moult 
ing  sparrows  had  not  Miss  Destrey's  plain  white  cotton  kept  us 
in  countenance. 

Mrs.  Kidder  had  evidently  not  been  comfortably  certain 
whether  we  ought  not  to  march  into  the  restaurant  arm  in  arm, 
but  the  penniless  goddess  (who  had  perhaps  been  brought  to 
Europe  as  a  subtle  combination  of  etiquette-mistress  and  ladies'- 
maid)  cut  the  Gordian  knot  with  a  quick  glance,  to  our  intense 
relief;  and  we  filed  in  anyhow,  places  being  indicated  to  Terry 
and  me  on  either  hand  of  our  hostess. 

A  painted  satin  menu,  with  a  list  of  dishes  as  long  as  Terry's 
tailor's  bills,  lay  beside  each  plate.  We  were  to  be  provided  with 
all  the  luxuries  which  were  not  in  season;  those  which  were 
would  have  been  far  too  common  for  an  American  millionairess, 
such  as  I  began  to  be  more  and  more  convinced  that  our  hostess 
was.  It  was  the  kind  of  luncheon  which  calls  for  rare  and  varied 

£8 


A   CHAPTER  OF  REVENGES  29 

wines,  just  as  certain  poetical  recitations  call  for  a  musical  ac 
companiment;  therefore  the  Countess's  first  words  on  sitting 
down  at  the  table  came  as  a  shock. 

"  Now,  Sir  Ralph,"  said  she,  "  you  must  just  order  any  kind  of 
wine  you  and  Mr.  Ter  —  Barrymore  like.  Mr.  Kidder  never 
would  have  alcohol  in  the  house,  except  for  sickness,  and  we 
three  drink  only  water,  so  I  don't  know  anything  about  it ;  but  I 
want  that  you  gentlemen  should  suit  your  own  taste.  Do  make 
the  waiter  bring  you  something  real  nice." 

My  sparkling  visions  of  Steinberger  Cabinet,  Cos  d'Estournel, 
or  an  "  Extra  Sec  "  of  '92,  burst  like  a  rainbow  bubble.  Here  was 
one  of  life's  little  tragedies. 

Neither  Terry  nor  I  are  addicted  to  looking  too  lovingly  on 
wine  when  it  is  red,  or  even  pale  golden;  still,  at  this  moment  I 
had  a  sharp  pang  of  sympathy  for  Tantalus.  To  be  sure,  that 
hint  as  to  "  something  real  nice  "  grudged  no  expense ;  but  I  must 
have  been  blest  with  more  cool,  unadulterated  "cheek"  than 
two  seasons  of  journalism  had  given  me,  to  order  anything 
appropriate  while  our  hostess  drowned  her  generous  impulses 
in  iced  water. 

With  a  wooden  expression  of  countenance,  I  asked  Terry  what 
he  would  have. 

"Water,  thanks,"  he  replied  airily,  and  if,  instead  of  gazing 
at  the  ceiling  with  elaborate  interest,  he  had  allowed  his  eye  to 
meet  mine  at  that  instant,  a  giggle  might  have  burst  over  that 
luncheon-table,  out  of  a  clear  sky.  Perforce,  I  felt  obliged  to  fol 
low  his  lead,  for  only  a  guzzling  brute  could  have  bibbed  alone, 
surrounded  by  four  teetotallers ;  but,  deprived  of  even  an  inno 
cent  glass  of  Riviera  beer,  my  soul  thirsted  for  a  revenge  which 
could  not  be  quenched  with  iced  water;  and  I  took  it  without 
waiting  for  repentance  to  set  in. 

"  You  see,  Barrymore  is  a  chauffeur,"  I  carefully  explained 
"  and  it 's  en  regie  for  him,  even  though  an  amateur,  to  drink 
nothing  stronger  than  cold  water.  You  will  notice  during  our 
trip,  Countess,  how  conscientious  he  is  in  sticking  to  this  pledge." 


30  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

I  felt  that  Terry's  eye  launched  a  dagger;  but  it  was  now  my 
turn  to  be  interested  in  the  ceiling. 

"  Oh,  how  good  of  him ! "  exclaimed  our  hostess.  "  I  do  admire 
that  in  you,  Mr.  Tarrymore."  (I  could  n't  help  wondering  inci 
dentally  whether  the  Countess  would  have  had  such  frequent 
lapses  of  memory  regarding  Terry's  name,  if  she  knew  that  he 
was  the  brother  of  a  marquis;  but  it  may  be  that  I  wronged  her.) 
"  We  shall  feel  as  safe  as  if  we  were  in  a  house  when  you  are  driv 
ing,  now  we  know  what  kind  of  a  man  you  are,  shan't  we,  girls  ?  " 

Poor  Terry,  irrevocably  pledged  to  blue  ribbonism  for  the 
term  of  his  natural  chauff eurdom !  I  could  have  found  it  in  my 
heart  to  pity  him,  had  not  the  iced  water  come  jingling  ironically 
round  at  that  moment.  Let  it  then  be  upon  his  own  head,  with  ice 
or  without. 

And  this  came  of  lunching  with  the  widow  of  a  Simon  Pure 
Kidder !  for  I  had  no  longer  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  the  middle 
name  of  the  deceased.  With  a  brain  almost  cruelly  clear  and  cold, 
I  entered  the  lists  with  the  lady's  conversational  gifts,  and  after  a 
spirited  but  brief  tourney,  conquered  with  flying  colours.  My  aim 
was  to  pin  her  down  to  something  definite  .  .  .  like  an  im 
paled  butterfly :  hers  was  to  flutter  over  a  vast  garden  of  irrele 
vances  ;  but  she  did  not  long  evade  the  spike.  I  tipped  its  point 
with  the  subtly  poisonous  suggestion  that  all  arrangements  must 
be  made  in  the  hour,  otherwise  complications  might  arise.  There 
seemed  to  be  so  many  people  who  had  been  attracted  by  that 
simple  little  advertisement  of  mine,  and  really,  I  must  be  able  to 
say  that  I  and  my  car  were  engaged  for  such  and  such  a  date  — 
preferably  a  near  one  —  or  I  should  have  difficulty  in  evading 
requests  for  an  intermediate  trip  with  others. 

The  butterfly  wriggled  no  more.  Indeed,  it  hastened  to  assure 
the  executioner  that  it  was  only  too  anxious  to  be  comfortably 
pinned  into  place. 

"  When  could  you  go,  Sir  Ralph  ?  "  the  Countess  asked. 

"  Day  after  to-morrow,"  I  answered  boldly.  "  Could  you  ?  " 

She  looked  rather  taken  aback. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  REVENGES  31 

"  We  —  er  —  have  n't  motor  things  yet,"  she  demurred. 

"  You  can  get  '  every  requisite '  (is  n't  that  the  word  ?)  in  the 
Nice  or  Monte  Carlo  shops,  if  that 's  your  only  reason  for  delay." 

Still  the  lady  hesitated. 

"  Mamma's  new  crown  is  n't  painted  on  all  her  baggage  yet." 
said  Beechy,  living  up,  with  a  wicked  delight,  to  her  role  of  enfante 
terrible.  "  It 's  being  done,  but  it  was  n't  promised  till  the  end  of 
the  week.  Say,  Sir  Ralph,  don't  you  think  she  's  mean  not  to  give 
me  even  so  much  as  half  a  crown  ?  " 

What  I  really  thought  was,  that  she  deserved  a  slap ;  but  Terry 
spared  the  Countess  a  blush  and  me  the  brain  fag  of  a  repartee 
conciliatory  alike  to  parent  and  child. 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  warn  you,"  he  said,  "  that  the  car  has  n't 
precisely  the  carrying  capacity  of  a  luggage  van.  Perhaps  when 
you  find  that  there  's  no  room  for  Paris  frocks  and  hats,  you  '11 
repent  your  bargain." 

"  Can't  we  take  a  small  trunk  and  a  satchel  apiece  ?  "  asked  the 
Countess.  "I  don't  see  how  we  could  do  with  less." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  to,  if  you  go  in  —  er  —  my  friend's 
car,"  Terry  went  on  ruthlessly.  "  A  small  box  between  the  three 
of  you,  and  a  good-sized  dressing-bag  each,  is  all  that  the  car  can 
possibly  manage,  though,  of  course  Moray  and  I  will  reduce  our 
luggage  to  the  minimum  amount." 

Mrs.  Kidder  looked  grave,  and  at  this  instant,  just  as  I  felt  that 
Terry's  future  was  wavering  in  the  balance,  outweighed  probably 
by  a  bonnet-box,  there  was  a  slight  stir  in  the  restaurant,  behind 
our  backs.  Involuntarily  I  turned  my  head,  and  saw  Prince 
Dalmar-Kalm  hurrying  towards  us,  his  very  moustache  a  thun 
der-cloud.  He  could  not  have  appeared  at  a  less  convenient  time 
for  us. 

I  was  sure  that  he  had  not  been  consulted  in  regard  to  the  auto 
mobile  trip;  that  perhaps  even  now  he  was  in  ignorance  of  the 
plan;  and  that,  when  he  came  to  hear  of  it  as  he  must  within  the 
next  five  minutes,  he  would  certainly  try  (as  Beechy  would  have 
put  it)  to  snatch  the  American  ladies  out  of  our  mouths.  It  was 


32  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

like  Terry's  luck,  I  said  to  myself,  that  this  evil  genius  should 
arrive  at  the  moment  when  Mrs.  Kidder  had  been  mercilessly  de 
prived  of  her  wardrobe  by  a  mere  chauffeur.  Terry  had  stupidly 
given  her  an  opening  if  she  chose  to  take  it,  by  suggesting  that 
she  might  "  repent  her  bargain,"  and  I  was  sure  it  would  n't  be 
Dalmar-Kalm's  fault  if  she  did  n't  take  it. 

A  second  later  he  had  reached  our  table,  was  bending  low  over 
Mrs.  Bidder's  hand,  smiling  with  engaging  wickedness  at 
Beechy,  and  sending  a  dark  look  of  melancholy  yearning  to  catch 
Miss  Destrey's  sympathies. 

"Why,  Prince,"  the  Countess  exclaimed  in  a  loud  tone,  calcu 
lated  to  reach  the  ears  of  any  neighbouring  royalties,  and  let  them 
see  that  she  was  as  good  as  they  were.  "  Why,  Prince,  if  you  're 
not  always  surprising  people !  I  thought  you  were  staying  another 
day  with  the  Duke  of  Messina,  in  Monte  Carlo." 

"  Told  you  so ! "  my  eyebrows  —  such  as  they  are  —  tele 
graphed  to  Terry.  "He  has  been  away;  only  just  back;  panto 
mime  demon  act." 

"I  found  myself  homesick  for  Cap  Martin,"  returned  the 
Prince,  with  an  emphasis  and  a  sweeping  glance  which  made  a 
present  of  the  compliment  to  the  woman,  the  girl,  and  the 
child. 

"Humph,"  I  sneered  into  the  iced  water;  "lost  all  he  'd  got 
with  him,  and  the  money-lenders  turned  crusty;  that 's  when  the 
homesickness  came  on." 

"  Well,  now  you  're  here,  do  sit  down  and  have  lunch  with  us," 
said  Mrs.  Kidder,  "  unless  "  —  archly  —  "  your  homesickness 
has  destroyed  your  appetite." 

"  If  it  had,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  would  restore  it; " 
and  once  more  the  Austrian's  gaze  assured  each  one  of  the  three 
that  she  alone  was  the  "  you  "  referred  to. 

A  nod  and  a  gesture  whisked  a  couple  of  attentive  waiters  to 
the  table,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  —  even  an  American 
eye  —  a  place  was  laid  for  the  Prince,  with  duplicates  of  all  our 
abortive  wine  glasses. 


A  CHAPTER   OF  REVENGES  33 

"Aha,  my  fine  fellow,  you  are  no  friend  of  cold  water,"  I  said 
to  myself  in  savage  glee,  as  I  acknowledged  with  a  bow  Mrs. 
Kidder's  elaborate  introduction.  "  You  will  suffer  even  more  than 
we  have  suffered."  But  I  reckoned  without  a  full  knowledge  of 
the  princely  character. 

History  repeated  itself  with  an  invitation  to  the  new  guest  to 
choose  what  he  liked  from  the  wine  card.  I  looked  for  a  courte 
ous  refusal,  accompanied  by  some  such  gallant  speech  as,  that 
he  would  drink  to  the  ladies  only  with  his  eyes ;  but  nothing  of 
the  kind  happened.  He  searched  the  list  for  a  moment  with  the 
absorption  of  a  connoisseur,  then  unblushingly  ordered  a  bot 
tle  of  Romance  Conti,  which  wine,  he  carelessly  announced,  he 
preferred  to  champagne,  as  being  "less  obvious."  The  price, 
however,  would  be  pretty  obvious  on  Mrs.  Kidder's  bill,  I  re 
flected;  seventy  francs  a  bottle,  if  it  were  a  penny.  But  did  this 
coming  event  cast  a  shadow  on  the  Prince's  contentment  ?  On  the 
contrary,  it  probably  spangled  its  fabric  with  sequins.  He  sniffed 
the  wine  as  if  it  had  been  an  American  Beauty  rose,  and  quaffed 
it  ecstatically,  while  Terry  and  I  gulped  down  our  iced  water  and 
our  indignation. 

"You  are  just  in  time,  Prince,"  said  Mrs.  Kidder,  "to  advise 
us  about  our  journey.  Oh,  I  forgot,  you  don't  know  anything 
about  it  yet.  But  we  are  going  a  tour  in  Sir  Ralph  Moray's  auto 
mobile.  Won't  it  be  fun?" 

"  Indeed  ?  "  the  Prince  ejaculated  hastily;  and  I  had  the  satis 
faction  of  knowing  that  one  swallow  of  the  Romance  Conti  was 
spoiled  for  him.  "No;  I  had  not  heard.  I  did  not  know  that  Sir 
Ralph  Moray  was  one  of  your  friends.  Has  not  this  been  sudden 
ly  arranged  ?  " 

"It  was  only  decided  yesterday,"  replied  the  Countess;  and  it 
was  revealed  to  me  that  the  plump  lady  was  not  without  femi 
nine  guile. 

"  What  is  your  car  ? "  inquired  the  Prince,  turning  abruptly 
to  me. 

"A  Panhard,"  I  answered,  with  a  gaze  as  mild  as  milk.  I 


34  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

knew  that  my  answer  would  disappoint  him,  as  he  could  pick  no 
flaws  in  the  make  of  the  machine. 

"  What  horse-power  ?  "  he  continued  his  catechism. 

"  Something  under  twenty,"  I  conservatively  replied. 

"  Twelve,"  corrected  Terry,  with  a  brutal  bluntness  unworthy 
of  a  Celt.  He  can  be  very  irritating  sometimes;  but  at  this  mo 
ment  he  was  looking  so  extremely  handsome  and  devil-may- 
care,  that  my  desire  to  punch  his  head  dissolved  as  I  glared  at 
him.  Could  any  woman  in  her  senses  throw  over  even  a  titleless 
Terry  and  twelve  horses  worth  of  motor  for  a  hat  box  or  two  and 
an  Austrian  Prince? 

"  A  twelve-horse-power  car,  and  you  propose  to  take  with  you 
on  tour  three  ladies,  their  maid,  and  all  their  luggage  ? "  de 
manded  Dalmar-Kalm  in  his  too  excellent  English.  "But  it  is 
not  possible." 

I  felt  suddenly  as  if  Terry  and  I  were  little  snub-nosed  boys, 
trafficking  with  a  go-cart. 

"  They  won't  need  their  maid,  Prince,"  said  Miss  Destrey.  "  I 
know  how  to  do  Aunt  Kathryn's  hair;  and  the  dear  Sisters  have 
taught  me  how  to  mend  beautifully." 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  opened  her  lips  during 
luncheon,  except  to  eat  with  an  almost  nun-like  abstemiousness ; 
and  now  she  broke  silence  to  rescue  a  scheme  which  yesterday 
had  excited  her  active  disapproval.  The  girl,  always  interesting 
because  of  her  unusual  type  of  beauty,  gained  a  new  value  in 
my  eyes.  She  excited  my  curiosity,  although  her  words  were  a 
practical  revelation  of  her  place  in  the  trio.  Why  did  she  break  a 
lance  in  our  defence  ?  and  had  she  been  torn  from  a  convent  to 
serve  her  rich  relatives,  that  she  should  mention  the  "  Sisters  " 
in  that  familiar  and  tender  tone  ?  Had  her  beautiful  white  sails 
veered  with  a  new  wind,  and  did  she  want  to  go  with  us,  after 
all  ?  Did  she  wish  to  tell  the  Prince  in  a  sentence,  how  poor  she 
really  was  ?  These  were  a  few  of  the  hundred  and  one  questions 
which  the  Fair  Maid  of  Destrey's  charming  and  somewhat 
baffling  personality  set  going  in  my  mind  by  a  word  or  two. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  REVENGES  35 

I  thought  that  the  Prince's  face  fell,  but  Mrs.  Kidder's  contri 
bution  to  the  defence  distracted  my  attention. 

"  We  don't  expect  to  take  all  our  luggage,"  she  said.  "  I  sup 
pose  some  things  could  be  sent  by  rail  from  place  to  place  to 
meet  us,  could  n't  they  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  I  assured  her,  before  Dalmar-Kalm  could  en 
large  upon  the  uncertainties  of  such  an  arrangement.  "  That 's 
what  is  always  done.  And  your  maid  could  travel  by  rail  too." 

"  She  is  a  Parisienne,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kidder,  "  and  she  's  al 
ways  saying  she  would  n't  leave  France  for  twice  the  wages  I 
pay." 

"  Try  her  with  three  times,"  suggested  Beechy.  But  Miss  Des- 
trey  was  speaking  again.  "  As  I  said,  it  does  n't  matter  about 
Agnes.  Aunt  Kathryn  and  Beechy  shan't  miss  her;  and  she 
never  does  anything  for  me." 

"What  a  pity,"  complained  the  Prince,  "that  my  automobile 
is  at  the  moment  laid  up  for  repairs.  Otherwise  I  should  have 
been  only  too  delighted  to  take  you  three  ladies  to  the  world's 
end,  if  you  had  the  wish.  It  is  not '  something  less  than  twenty,' 
as  Sir  Ralph  Moray  describes  his  twelve  horse-power  car,  but  is 
something  more  than  twenty,  with  a  magnificently  roomy  Roi 
de  Beige  tonneau  and  accommodation  for  any  amount  of  lug 
gage  on  the  roof.  By  £he  way,  yours  has  at  least  a  cover,  I  make 
no  doubt,  Sir  Ralph  ?  " 

"No,"  I  was  obliged  to  admit,  my  mouth  somewhat  dry  — 
owing  perhaps  to  the  iced  water. 

"  No  cover  ?  How,  then,  do  you  propose  to  protect  these  ladies 
from  the  rain  ?  "  This  with  virtuous  indignation  flashing  from  his 
fierce  eyes,  and  a  gesture  which  defended  three  helpless  feminine 
things  from  the  unscrupulous  machinations  of  a  pair  of  villains. 

My  ignorance  of  motor  lore  bereft  me  of  a  weapon  with  which 
to  parry  the  attack,  but  Terry  whipped  out  his  sword  at  last. 

"The  ladies  will  be  protected  by  their  motor  coats  and  our 
rugs.  I  'm  sure  they  're  too  plucky  to  sacrifice  the  best  pleasures 
of  motoring  to  a  little  personal  comfort  when  it  may  happen  to 


36  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

rain,"  said  he.  "  A  roof  gives  no  protection  against  rain  except 
with  curtains,  and  even  when  without  them  it  curtails  the  view." 

"Ah,  it  is  cruel  that  I  cannot  get  my  car  for  you  from  Paris," 
sighed  the  Prince.  "  Perhaps,  Countess,  if  you  would  wait  a  little 
time  —  a  week  or  ten  days,  I  might  —  " 

"  But  we  're  going  day  after  to-morrow,  are  n't  we,  Kittie  ?  " 
quickly  broke  in  Miss  Destrey. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Kidder,  who  invariably  frowned 
when  addressed  as  "  Cousin  Kathryn,"  and  brightened  faintly  if 
spontaneously  Kittied.  "  We  've  been  here  more  than  a  week,  and 
seen  all  the  Nice  and  Monte  Carlo  sights,  thanks  to  the  Prince. 
There  's  nothing  to  keep  us,  although  it  will  be  about  all  we  can 
do  to  get  off  so  soon." 

"  Why  be  hurried,  Countess  ?  "  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder 
half -turned  from  me. 

"Well,  I  don't  know."  Her  eyes  wandered  to  mine.  "But  it 
suits  Sir  Ralph  to  leave  then.  I  guess  we  can  manage  it." 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?  "  inquired  Dalmar-Kalm.  "  I  might  be 
able  to  join  you  somewhere  en  route" 

"  Well,  that 's  one  of  the  things  we  have  n't  quite  settled  yet," 
replied  Mrs.  Kidder.  "Almost  anywhere  will  suit  me.  We  can 
just  potter  a-round.  It 's  the  automobiling  we  want.  You  know, 
this  is  our  first  time  in  Europe,  and  so  long  as  we  're  in  pretty 
places,  it 's  much  the  same  to  us." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  Mamma,"  said  Beechy.  "  Maida  and  I 
want  to  see  the  Lake  of  Como,  where  Claude  Melnotte  had  his 
palace." 

"  Oh,  my,  yes !  In  *  the  Lady  of  Lyons.'  I  do  think  that 's  a  per 
fectly  sweet  play.  Could  we  go  there,  Sir  Ralph  ?  " 

"  I  must  consult  my  chauffeur,"  said  I,  cautiously.  "  He  knows 
more  about  geography  than  I  do.  He  ought  to ;  he  spends  enough 
money  on  road-maps  to  keep  a  wife.  Eh,  Terry  ?  " 

"There  are  two  ways  of  driving  to  the  lakes  from  here,"  he 
said,  with  a  confidence  which  pleased  me.  "  One  can  go  coasting 
along  the  Italian  Riviera  to  Genoa,  and  so  direct  to  Milan ;  or  one 


A  CHAPTER   OF  REVENGES  37 

can  go  through  the  Roya  Valley,  either  by  Turin,  or  a  short  cut 
which  brings  one  eventually  to  Milan." 

"Milan!"  exclaimed  Miss  Destrey,  with  a  rapt  look.  "Why, 
that  's  not  very  far  from  Verona,  is  it  ?  And  if  it  's  not  far  from 
Verona,  it  can't  be  so  far  from  Venice.  Oh,  Beechy,  think  of 
seeing  Venice ! " 

"  It  would  be  easy  to  go  there,"  Terry  said,  showing  too  much 
eagerness  to  fall  in  with  a  whim  of  the  poor  relation's ;  at  least 
such  was  my  opinion  until,  with  a  glint  of  mischief  in  his  eyes,  he 
added,  "  If  we  went  to  Venice,  Countess,  it  would  be  very  easy  to 
run  on  if  you  liked,  into  Dalmatia  and  see  the  new  estate  which 
you  told  us  you  thought  of  buying,  before  you  actually  made  up 
your  mind  to  have  it." 

It  was  all  I  could  do  to  strangle  a  chuckle  at  birth.  Good  old 
Terry!  Even  he  was  not  above  taking  a  neat  revenge;  and  the 
Prince's  face  showed  how  neat  it  was.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
the  estate  in  Dalmatia  which  carried  with  it  a  title,  had  any  re 
semblance  to  Claude  Melnotte's  in  that  "sweet"  play,  "The 
Lady  of  Lyons  ?  "  I  could  scarcely  believe  that,  much  as  I  would 
have  liked  to ;  but  it  was  clear  he  would  have  preferred  to  have  the 
American  millionairess  take  the  beauties  of  her  new  possessions 
for  granted. 

"  Oh,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  already.  I  made  it  up  before  we 
arrived  here,"  said  the  Countess. 

"She  made  it  up  in  the  train  coming  from  Paris,"  corrected 
Beechy,  "  because  she  had  to  decide  what  name  to  register,  and 
whether  she  'd  have  the  crown  put  on  her  handkerchiefs  and  her 
baggage.  But  she  had  to  cable  to  our  lawyer  in  Denver  before 

DO     O  J 

she  could  get  money  enough  to  pay  what  the  Prince  wanted  in 
advance,  and  the  answer  only  came  back  this  morning." 

"  And  what  does  the  lawyer  say  ?  "  asked  the  Prince,  flushing, 
and  with  a  strained  playfulness  contradicted  by  the  eager  light  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Just  guess,"  said  Beechy,  all  her  imps  in  high  glee. 

"  Lawyers  are  such  dry-as-dust  persons,"  remarked  His  High- 


38  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

ness,  hastily  lifting  his  glass  to  toss  off  the  last  of  the  Romance 
Conti.  "  If  he  is  a  wise  man  who  studies  his  client's  interests,  he 
could  not  advise  Madame  against  taking  a  step  by  which  she  as 
cends  to  a  height  so  advantageous,  but  —  " 

"  Oh,  he  said  yes,"  cried  Mrs.  Kidder,  clinging  to  her  Coun- 
tesshood. 

"  And  he  put  after  it,  '  If  you  will  be  a  fool/  "  added  Beechy. 
"  But  he  '11  have  to  pay  for  that  part  of  the  cable  himself." 

"He  is  my  late  husband's  cousin,"  explained  Mrs.  Kidder, 
"  and  he  takes  liberties  sometimes,  as  he  thinks  Simon  would  not 
have  approved  of  everything  I  do.  But  you  need  n't  tell  every 
thing,  Beechy." 

"  Let 's  talk  about  Venice,"  said  Miss  Destrey  with  a  lovely 
smile,  which  seemed  all  the  more  admirable  as  she  had  given  us 
so  few.  "  I  have  always  longed  to  see  Venice." 

"  But  you  did  n't  want  to  come  abroad,  you  can't  say  you  did," 
remarked  Beechy  the  irrepressible,  resenting  her  cousin's  inter 
ference,  as  a  naughty  boy  resents  being  torn  from  the  cat  to  whose 
tail  he  has  been  tying  a  tin  can.  "  And  I  know  why  you  did  n't ! " 
She  too  had  a  taste  for  revenge ! 

Miss  Destrey  blushed  —  I  wondered  why;  and  so,  no  doubt, 
did  Terry  wonder.  (Had  she  by  chance  been  sent  abroad  to  for 
get  an  unfortunate  attachment  ?) 

"You  wanted  to  stay  with  the  Sisters,"  Beechy  took  advan 
tage  of  the  other's  embarrassed  silence  to  go  on.  "  And  you  hard 
ly  enjoyed  Paris  at  all,  although  everybody  turned  to  look  after 
you  in  the  streets." 

"  Well,  now  that  I  have  come,  I  should  enjoy  seeing  the  places 
I  've  cared  most  to  read  about  in  history  or  poetry,"  said  Miss 
Destrey  quickly,  "  and  Venice  is  one  of  them." 

"  Maida  has  lived  more  in  books  than  she  has  in  real  life,"  re 
marked  Miss  Beechy  with  scorn.  "  I  know  a  lot  more  about  the 
world  than  she  does,  although  I  am  only  —  only  - 

"Thirteen,"  finished  the  Countess.  "Beechy  darling,  would 
you  like  to  have  some  more  of  those  marrons  glaces  ?  They  are  n't 


A  CHAPTER  OF  REVENGES  39 

good  for  you,  but  just  this  once  you  may,  if  you  want  to.  And 
oh,  Sir  Ralph,  I  should  love  to  see  my  new  estate.  It 's  a  very  old 
estate  really,  you  know,  though  new  to  me ;  so  old  that  the  castle 
is  almost  a  ruin;  but  if  I  saw  it  and  took  a  great  fancy  to  the 
place,  I  might  have  it  restored  and  made  perfectly  elegant,  to  live 
in  sometimes,  might  n't  I?  Just  where  is  Schloss  (she  pro 
nounced  it  *  Slosh ')  what-you -may-call-it  ?  I  never  can  say  it 
properly  ?  " 

"  Schloss  Hrvoya  is  very  far  down  in  Dalmatia  —  almost  as 
far  east  as  Montenegro,"  replied  the  Prince.  "  The  roads  are  ex 
tremely  bad,  too.  I  do  not  think  they  would  be  feasible  for  an 
automobile,  especially  for  Sir  Ralph  Moray's  little  twelve-horse 
power  car  carrying  five  persons." 

"  I  differ  from  you  there,  Prince."  Terry  argued,  looking  ob 
stinate.  "  I  have  never  driven  in  Dalmatia,  although  I  've  been 
to  Fiume  and  Abbazzia;  but  I  have  a  friend  who  went  with  his 
car,  and  he  had  no  adventures  which  ladies  would  not  have  en 
joyed.  Our  principal  difficulty  would  be  about  petrol;  but  we 
could  carry  a  lot,  and  have  supplies  sent  to  us  along  the  route. 
I  '11  engage  to  manage  that  —  and  the  car." 

"Then  it 's  settled  that  we  go,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kidder,  clap 
ping  two  dimpled  hands  covered  with  rings.  "  What  a  wonderful 
trip  it  will  be." 

I  could  see  that  the  Prince  would  have  liked  to  call  Terry  out, 
but  he  was  too  wise  to  dispute  the  question  further;  and  a  dawn 
ing  plan  of  some  kind  was  slowly  lightening  his  clouded  eye. 

My  wrish  was  granted  at  last;  something  was  settled.  And  later, 
strolling  on  the  terrace,  I  contrived  to  put  all  that  was  left  upon  a 
business  basis. 

Never  had  man  a  better  friend  than  Terence  Barrymore  has 
in  me;  and  my  whole  attention  on  the  way  home  was  given  to 
making  him  acknowledge  it. 


IV 
A  CHAPTER  OF  HUMILIATIONS 

AFTER  all,  we  did  not  start  on  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Our  luncheon  had  been  on  Tuesday.  On  Wednesday 
a  note  came,  sent  by  hand  from  Mrs.  Kidder,  to  say 
that  she  could  not  possibly  be  ready  until  Friday,  and 
that  as  Friday  was  an  unlucky  day  to  begin  any  enterprise, 
we  had  better  put  off  starting  until  Saturday.  But  I  must  not 
"  think  her  changeable,  as  she  really  had  a  very  good  reason  "; 
and  she  was  mine  "Cordially,  Kathryn  Stanley  Kidder- 
Dalmar." 

Having  first  stated  that  she  could  not  be  ready,  and  then  added 
her  reason  was  good,  I  naturally  imagined  there  was  more  in 
the  delay  than  met  the  eye.  My  fancy  showed  me  the  hand  of 
Prince  Dalmar-Kalm,  and  I  firmly  believed  that  each  finger  of 
that  hand  to  say  nothing  of  the  thumb,  was  busily  working 
against  us. 

All  Thursday  and  Friday  I  expected  at  any  moment  to  receive 
an  intimation  that,  owing  to  unforseen  circumstances  (which 
might  not  be  explained)  the  Countess  and  her  party  were  unable 
to  carry  out  the  arrangement  they  had  entered  into  with  us.  But 
Thursday  passed,  and  nothing  happened.  Friday  wore  on  towards 
evening,  and  the  constant  strain  upon  my  nerves  had  made  me 
irritable.  Terry,  who  was  calmly  getting  ready  for  the  start  as  if 
there  were  no  cause  for  uncertainty,  chaffed  me  on  my  state  of 
mind,  and  I  rounded  upon  him  viciously,  for  was  not  all  my 
scheming  for  his  sake  ? 

I  was  in  the  act  of  pointing  out  several  of  his  most  prominent 

40 


A   CHAPTER  OF   HUMILIATIONS  41 

defects,  and  shedding  cigarette  ashes  into  his  suit-case  as  he 
packed,  when  Felicite  appeared  with  a  letter. 

"  It 's  from  her ! "  I  gasped.  "  And  —  she  's  got  her  coronet.  It 's 
on  the  envelope,  as  large  as  life." 

"  Which  means  that  she  's  ready,"  said  the  future  chauffeur, 
examining  a  suit  of  overalls. 

"  Don't  be  so  cocksure,"  said  I,  opening  the  letter.  "  Hum  — 
ha  —  well,  yes,  it  does  seem  to  be  all  right,  if  you  can  ever  judge  a 
woman's  intentions  by  what  she  says.  She  wants  to  know  whether 
the  arrangement  stands,  that  we  're  to  call  for  them  at  ten  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning,  and  whether  we  're  to  go  rain  or  shine.  I  '11 
scratch  off  a  line  in  answer,  and  say  yes  —  yes  —  yes,  to  every 
thing." 

I  did  so  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  then  gave  myself  up  to  the 
weakness  of  reaction.  Upon  Felicite  fell  the  task  of  doing  my 
packing,  which  consisted  in  cramming  a  suit  of  flannels,  my  even 
ing  things,  and  all  the  linen  it  would  hold  without  bursting 
asunder,  into  a  large,  fitted  suit-case.  Terry  had  a  suit-case  too, 
five  times  better  than  mine  (Irishmen  in  debt  always  do  have 
things  superior  to  those  of  every  one  else) ;  we  had  motor-coats, 
and  enough  guide-books  and  road-maps  to  stock  a  small  library; 
and  when  these  were  collected  we  were  ready  for  the  Great 
Adventure. 

When  Terry  visits  me  at  the  Chalet  des  Pins,  he  keeps  his  car 
at  a  garage  in  Mentone.  His  habit  has  been  to  put  up  his  chauf 
feur  close  by  this  garage,  and  telephone  when  he  wants  to  use 
the  car;  but  the  chauffeur  was  paid  off  and  sent  away  ten 
days  ago,  at  about  the  time  when  Terry  decided  that  the 
automobile  must  be  sold.  He  had  not  been  in  spirits  for  a  drive 
since,  until  the  fateful  day  of  the  advertisement,  but  immediately 
after  our  luncheon  with  the  Countess  he  had  walked  down  to  the 
garage  and  stayed  until  dinner-time.  What  he  had  been  doing 
there  he  did  not  deign  to  state;  but  I  had  a  dim  idea  that  when 
you  went  to  call  on  a  motor-car  in  its  den,  you  spent  hours  on 
your  back  bolting  nuts,  or  accelerating  silencers,  or  putting  the 


42  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

crank  head  (and  incidentally  your  own)  into  an  oil  bath;  and  I 
supposed  that  Terry  had  been  doing  these  things.  When  he  re 
turned  on  Wednesday,  Thursday,  and  Friday,  spending  several 
hours  on  each  occasion,  I  went  on  supposing  the  same;  but  when 
at  nine  o'clock  on  Saturday  morning  he  drove  up  to  the  garden 
gate  after  another  trip  to  Mentone,  I  had  a  surprise. 

Terry  had  almost  bitten  off  my  head  when  I  had  innocently 
proposed  to  have  his  car  smartened  up  to  suit  the  taste  of  the 
Countess ;  but,  without  saying  a  word  to  me,  he  had  been  at  work 
improving  its  appearance. 

"  She  "  (as  he  invariably  calls  his  beloved  vehicle)  was  dressed 
in  grey  as  before,  but  it  was  fresh,  glossy  grey,  still  smelling  of 
turpentine.  The  tyres  were  new,  and  white,  and  a  pair  of  spare 
ones  were  tied  onto  the  motor's  bonnet,  which  looked  quite 
jaunty  now  in  its  clean  lead-coloured  paint. 

The  shabby  cushions  of  the  driver's  seat  and  tonneau  had  been 
re-covered  also  with  grey,  and  wherever  a  bit  of  brass  was  visi 
ble  it  glittered  like  pure  gold. 

At  the  sound  of  the  Panhard's  sob  at  the  gate,  Felicite  and  I 
hurried  down  the  path,  armed  with  the  two  coats  and  suit-cases, 
there  to  be  surprised  by  the  rejuvenated  car,  and  dumbfounded 
by  a  transformed  Terry. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  comme  il  est  beau,  comme  9a,"  cried  my  domes 
tic  miracle  worker,  lost  in  admiration  of  a  tall,  slim,  yet  athletic 
figure,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  black  leather.  "  Mais  —  mais  ce 
n'est  pas  comme  il  faut  pour  un  Milord." 

"  Why,  Terry,"  exclaimed  I,  "  I  never  thought  —  I  never  ex 
pected  —  I  'm  hanged  if  you  're  not  a  real  professional.  It 's  aw 
fully  smart,  and  very  becoming  —  never  saw  you  look  better  in 
your  life.  But  it  's  —  er  —  a  kind  of  masquerade,  you  know.  I  'm 
not  sure  you  ought  to  do  it.  If  Innisfallen  saw  you  like  that,  he  'd 
cross  you  out  of  his  will." 

"  He  's  dead  certain  to  have  done  that  already.  When  I  en 
gaged  as  your  chauffeur  I  engaged  as  your  chauffeur  and  I  intend 
to  look  the  part  as  well  as  act  it.  I  want  this  car  to  be  as  smart  as 


A   CHAPTER   OF   HUMILIATIONS  43 

it  can,  which  unfortunately  is  n't  saying  much,  and  towards  that 
end  I  've  been  doing  my  best  these  last  three  or  four  days.  She 
is  n't  bad,  is  she  ?  " 

"  From  being  positively  plain,  if  not  ugly,  she  has  become  al 
most  a  beauty,"  I  replied.  But  I  thought  you  were  determined  to 
preserve  her  from  the  sin  of  vanity  ?  Why  this  change  of  mind  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  could  n't  stand  Dalmar-Kalm  running  her  down," 
Terry  confessed  rather  sheepishly.  "There  was  so  little  time, 
that  half  the  work  on  her  I  've  done  myself." 

"  That  accounts,  then,  for  your  long  and  mysterious  absences." 

"  Only  partly.  I  've  been  working  like  a  navvy,  at  a  mechanic's 
shop,  fagging  up  a  lot  of  things  I  knew  how  to  do  on  principle, 
but  had  seldom  or  never  done  with  my  own  hands.  I  was  always 
a  lazy  beggar,  I  'm  afraid,  and  it  was  better  fun  to  smoke  and 
watch  my  man  Collet  making  or  fitting  in  a  new  part  than  to 
bother  with  it  myself.  This  will  be  my  first  long  trip '  on  my  own,' 
you  see,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  a  duffer,  especially  as  I  myself 
proposed  going  down  into  Dalmatia,  where  we  may  get  into  no 
end  of  scrapes." 

"By  Jove!"  I  exclaimed,  gazing  with  a  new  respect  at  my 
leather-clad  friend  and  his  car.  "  You  've  got  some  good  stuff  in 
you,  Terry.  I  did  n't  quite  realize  what  a  responsibility  I  was 
throwing  on  you,  old  chap,  when  I  named  you  as  my  chauffeur. 
Except  for  my  drives  with  you,  I  suppose  I  have  n't  been  in  a 
motor  half  a  dozen  times  in  my  life,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 
and  it  always  seemed  to  me  that,  if  a  man  knew  how  to  drive  his 
own  car,  he  must  know  how  to  do  everything  else  that  was  nec 
essary." 

"Very  few  do,  even  expert  drivers,  among  amateurs.  A  man 
ought  to  be  able  not  only  to  take  his  car  entirely  to  pieces  and  put 
it  together  again,  but  to  go  into  a  mechanic's  shop  and  make  a 
new  one.  I  don't  say  that  I  can  do  that,  but  I  can  come  a  bit 
nearer  to  it  than  I  could  five  days  ago.  I  don't  think  that  the  poor 
old  car  will  be  such  a  shock  to  the  ladies  now,  even  after  some  of 
the  fine  ones  they  must  have  seen,  do  you  ?  " 


44  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

He  was  so  ingenuously  proud  of  his  achievements,  had  toiled 
so  hard,  and  sacrificed  so  much  of  his  personal  vanity  in  provid 
ing  his  employers  with  a  suitable  chauffeur,  that  I  did  not  stint 
my  commendation  of  him  and  his  car.  Felicite,  too,  was  prolific 
in  compliments.  The  duck,  who  had  waddled  out  to  the  gate  to 
see  what  was  doing,  quacked  flattery;  the  yellow  cat  mewed 
praise;  and  Terry,  pleased  as  Punch  with  everything  and  every 
body,  whistled  as  he  stowed  away  our  suit-cases. 

The  moment  of  departure  had  come.  With  some  emotion  I 
bade  farewell  to  my  family,  which  I  should  not  see  again  until  I 
returned  to  the  Riviera  to  open  the  autumn  season  with  the  first 
number  of  the  Sun.  Then  one  last  look  at  the  little  place  which 
had  become  dear  to  me,  and  we  were  off  with  a  bound  for  the 
Cap  Martin  Hotel. 

Terry,  when  in  a  frank  and  modest  mood,  had  sometimes  said 
to  me  that,  with  all  the  virtues  of  strength,  faithfulness,  and  get- 
ting-thereness,  his  car  was  not  to  be  called  a  fast  car.  Thirty  miles 
an  hour  was  its  speed  at  best,  and  this  pace  it  seemed  had  been 
far  surpassed  by  newer  cars  of  the  same  make,  though  of  no 
higher  power,  since  Terry's  had  been  built.  This  fact  I  took  for 
granted,  as  I  had  heard  it  from  Terry's  own  lips  more  than  once ; 
but  as  we  flew  over  the  wooded  road  which  divided  the  Chalet 
des  Pins  from  the  Cap  Martin  Hotel,  I  would  have  sworn  that  we 
were  going  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  per  hour. 

"  Good  Heavens ! "  I  gasped.  "  Have  you  been  doing  any  tiling 
to  this  car,  to  make  her  faster  than  she  was?  Help!  I  can't 
breathe." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Terry,  with  soothing  calm.  "  It  's  only  be 
cause  you  have  n't  motored  for  a  long  time  that  you  imagine 
we  're  going  fast.  The  motor's  working  well,  that 's  all.  We  're 
crawling  along  at  a  miserable  twenty  miles  an  hour." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  that  worms  and  other  reptiles  can't  crawl  at 
this  pace,  anyhow,  or  life  would  n't  be  worth  living  for  the  rest  of 
creation,"  I  retorted,  cramming  on  my  cap  and  wishing  I  had 
covered  my  tearful  eyes  with  the  motor-goggles  which  lay  in  my 


A   CHAPTER  OF   HUMILIATIONS  45 

pocket.  "  If  our  millionairesses  don't  respect  this  pace,  I  '11  eat 
my  hat  when  I  have  time,  or  —  " 

But  Terry  was  not  destined  to  hear  the  end  of  that  boast  — 
which  perhaps  was  just  as  well  for  me  in  the  end,  as  things  were 
to  turn  out.  We  spun  down  the  avenue  of  pines,  and  in  less  than  a 
lazy  man's  breathing  space  were  at  the  door  of  the  Cap  Martin 
Hotel. 

Quite  a  crowd  of  smart-looking  people  was  assembled  there, 
and  for  one  fond  second  I  dreamed  that  they  were  waiting  to  wit 
ness  our  arrival.  But  that  pleasant  delusion  died  almost  as  soon 
as  born.  As  the  group  divided  at  our  approach  we  saw  that  they 
had  been  collected  round  a  large  motor-car  —  a  motor-car  so  re 
splendent  that  beside  it  our  poor  rejuvenated  thing  looked  like  a 
little,  made-up,  old  Quaker  lady. 

In  colour  this  hated  rival  was  a  rich,  ripe  scarlet,  with  cushions 
to  match  in  her  luxurious  tonneau.  Her  bonnet  was  like  a  helmet 
of  gold  for  the  goddess  Minerva,  and  wherever  there  was  space, 
or  chance,  for  something  to  sparkle  with  jewelled  effect,  that 
something  availed  itself,  with  brilliance,  of  the  opportunity. 

The  long  scarlet  body  of  the  creature  was  shaded  with  a  can 
opy  of  canvas,  white  as  the  breast  of  a  gull,  and  finished  daintily 
all  round  with  a  curly  fringe.  The  poles  which  held  it  were  appar 
ently  of  glittering  gold,  and  the  railing  designed  to  hold  luggage 
on  the  top,  if  not  of  the  same  precious  metal,  was  as  polished  as 
the  letters  of  Lord  Chesterfield  to  his  long-suffering  son. 

One  jealous  glance  was  enough  to  paint  this  glowing  picture 
upon  our  retinas,  and  there  it  remained,  like  a  sun-spot,  even 
when  a  later  one  was  stamped  upon  it.  Three  figures  in  long,  grey 
motor-coats,  exactly  alike,  and  motor-caps,  held  on  with  shirred 
chiffon  veils  came  forward,  two  advancing  more  quickly  than  the 
third. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Sir  Ralph  ?  Good  morning,  Mr.  Barrymore," 
Mrs.  Kidder  and  Beechy  were  saying.  "  We  're  all  ready,"  went 
on  the  former,  excitedly.  "  We  Ve  been  admiring  the  Prince's 
car,  which  came  last  night.  Is  n't  it  a  perfect  beauty  ?  Just  look  at 


46  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

the  sweet  poppy-colour,  and  his  crest  in  black  and  gold.  I  never 
saw  anything  so  pretty,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  like  Sir  Ralph's  car,"  said  Miss  Destrey.  "  It 's  such  a  cool 
grey,  and  even  in  wind  or  dust  it  will  always  look  neat.  We  shall 
match  it  very  well  with  our  grey  coats  and  veils." 

I  could  have  kissed  her;  while  as  for  Terry,  standing  cap  in 
hand,  he  looked  grateful  enough  to  have  grovelled  at  our  fair 
champion's  feet.  Nevertheless,  we  could  not  help  knowing  in  our 
hearts  that  no  normal  girl  could  help  preferring  that  celestial 
peacock  to  our  grey  hen,  and  that  Miss  Destrey's  wish  to  be  kind 
must  have  outstripped  her  obligation  to  be  truthful.  This  knowl 
edge  was  turning  a  screw  round  in  our  vitals,  when  His  Highness 
himself  appeared  to  give  it  a  still  sharper  twist. 

He  had  been  standing  at  a  short  distance,  talking  with  a  small 
chauffeur  of  a  peculiarly  solemn  cast  of  countenance.  Now  he 
turned  and  joined  the  ladies  with  a  brisk  step  and  an  air  of 
proprietorship. 

The  fact  that  he  was  wearing  a  long  motor-coat,  of  a  smart  cut, 
and  a  peaked  cap  which  became  him  excellently,  struck  me  as 
ominous.  Had  he  caught  the  birds  —  our  birds  —  after  all,  at 
the  last  moment,  and  had  they  been  too  cowardly  to  let  us 
know  ? 

"  Oh,  good  morning,  Sir  Ralph,"  said  he.  "  So  that  is  the  fa 
mous  car.  Mine  is  a  giant  beside  it,  is  it  not  ?  No  doubt  you  and 
your  friend  are  clever  men,  but  you  will  need  all  your  cleverness 
to  provide  comfortable  accommodation  for  these  ladies'  luggage 
as  well  as  themselves.  I  would  not  mind  betting  you  ten  to  one 
that  you  will  fail  to  do  it  to  their  satisfaction." 

"  I  '11  take  the  bet  if  the  ladies  don't  mind,"  responded  Terry 
promptly,  those  lazy  Irish  eyes  of  his  very  bright  and  dark. 

"  What  —  a  bet  ?  Why,  that  will  be  real  fun,"  laughed  the 
Countess,  showing  her  dimples.  "  What  is  it  to  be  ?  " 

A  slightly  anxious  expression  hardened  the  lines  of  the  Prince's 
face  when  he  found  himself  taken  in  earnest.  "A  thousand 
francs  against  a  hundred  of  yours  shall  it  be,  Monsieur  ?  I  don't 


A   CHAPTER   OF   HUMILIATIONS  47 

wish  to  plunge  my  hand  into  your  pockets,"  said  he,  shrewdly 
making  a  virtue  of  his  caution. 

"As  you  like,"  Terry  assented.  "Now  for  the  test.  Your  lug 
gage  has  come  down,  Countess  ? " 

"  Yes;  here  it  all  is,"  said  Mrs.  Kidder,  guiltily  indicating  three 
stout  hotel  porters  who  stood  in  the  background  heavily  laden. 
"Dear  me,  it  does  look  as  if  it  wras  going  to  be  a  mighty  tight 
squeeze,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

In  response  to  a  gesture,  the  porters  advanced  in  line,  like 
the  Three  Graces;  and  counting  rapidly,  I  made  out  that 
their  load  consisted  of  one  good-sized  "  Innovation "  cabin 
box,  two  enormous  alligator-skin  dressing  bags,  one  small  bag, 
and  two  capacious  hold-alls,  umbrellas,  parasols,  and  a  tea- 
basket. 

I  began  to  tremble  for  more  than  Terry's  five  pounds.  I  now 
saw  all  the  Prince's  guile.  He  had  somehow  managed  to  produce 
his  car,  and  had,  no  doubt,  used  all  his  eloquence  to  persuade  Mrs. 
Kidder  that  she  would  be  justified  in  changing  her  mind  at  the 
last  moment.  That  he  had  failed  was  owing  either  to  her  sense 
of  honour  or  her  liking  for  the  English-speaking  races  over  for 
eigners,  even  princely  ones.  But  refusing  to  abandon  hope,  His 
Highness  had  pinned  his  last  fluttering  rag  of  faith  upon  the 
chance  that  our  car  would  fail  to  fulfil  its  contract.  With  this 
chance,  and  this  alone  still  to  depend  upon,  he  had  probably  kept 
his  melancholy  chauffeur  up  all  night,  sponging  and  polishing.  If 
the  Panhard  refused  to  absorb  the  ladies'  luggage,  there  would  be 
his  radiant  chariot  waiting  to  console  them  in  the  bitter  hour  of 
their  disappointment. 

As  Terry  stood  measuring  each  piece  of  luggage  with  his  eye, 
silently  apportioning  it  a  place  in  the  car,  I  felt  as  I  had  felt  at 
"  Monte  "  when,  at  roulette,  as  many  as  three  of  my  hard-won 
five  franc  pieces  might  easily  go  "  bang,"  like  the  sixpence  of  an 
other  canny  Scot.  Will  it  be  rouge;  will  it  be  noir  ?  .  .  .  I 
could  never  look;  and  I  could  not  look  now. 

Turning  to  Beechy,  who  stood  at  my  shoulder  eagerly  watch- 


48  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

ing,  I  flung  myself  into  conversation.  "  What  are  you  laughing 
at?"  I  asked. 

"At  all  of  you,"  said  the  Infant.  "But  especially  the  Prince." 

"  Why  especially  the  Prince  ?  "  I  was  growing  interested. 

"I  should  think  you  'd  know." 

"How  could  I  know?" 

"  Because  I  guess  you  're  pretty  bright.  Sometimes  I  look  at 
you,  and  you  seem  to  be  thinking  the  same  things  I  am.  I  don't 
know  whether  that  makes  me  like  you  or  hate  you,  but  anyway  it 
makes  me  give  you  credit  for  good  wit.  I  'm  not  exactly  stupid" 

"  I  've  noticed  that.  But  about  the  Prince  ?  " 

"  Can't  you  guess  how  he  got  his  automobile  just  in  the  nick  of 
time?" 

"Yes,  I  can  guess;  but  maybe  it  would  n't  be  right." 

"And  maybe  it  wrould.  Let 's  see." 

"  Well,  the  Countess  heard  favourably  from  her  lawyer  in  Den 
ver  on  Tuesday,  and  paid  down  something  in  advance  for  the 
Dalmatian  estate." 

"And  the  title.  Right  first  time.  The  'something'  was  eight 
thousand  dollars." 

"Phew!" 

"  That 's  just  the  word  for  it.  When  she  's  seen  the  place,  she  '11 
pay  the  rest  —  eight  thousand  more.  Quite  a  lot  for  those  gold 
crowns  on  the  luggage ;  but  we  all  have  our  dolls  with  eyes  to  open 
or  shut,  and  poor  Mamma  has  n't  had  any  chance  to  play  dolls 
till  just  lately.  She  's  busy  now  having  heaps  of  fun,  and  I  'm 
having  a  little,  too,  in  my  simple  childish  way.  Well,  so  long 
as  we  don't  interfere  with  each  other !  .  .  .  The  Prince  sees 
that  Mamma  can  afford  to  buy  dolls,  so  he  would  like  to  play 
with  her,  and  me,  and  — 

"And  he  doesn't  want  Barrymore  and  me  in  the  playroom." 

" I  thought  you  were  bright!  It  made  him  just  sick  to  think  of 
you  two  walking  off  with  us  from  under  his  nose.  There  was  his 
automobile  in  Paris,  and  there  was  he  here,  perfectly  useless,  be 
cause  I  'm  sure  he  'd  lent  the  auto  to  his  uncle. " 


A   CHAPTER  OF   HUMILIATIONS  49> 

"To  his  uncle?"  I  echoed. 

"  Don't  you  say  that  in  England,  or  Scotland,  or  wherever  you 
come  from  ?  '  Put  it  up  the  Spout '  —  pawned  it ;  and  he  could  n't 
move  one  way  or  the  other  till  he  'd  got  Mamma's  money.  The 
minute  that  was  in  his  pocket  he  began  to  plan.  The  first  thing  he 
did  was  to  tell  Mamma  that  he  had  a  surprise  for  her,  which  he  'd 
been  getting  ready  for  several  days,  and  it  would  be  spoiled  if  we 
all  went  off  with  you  and  that  awfully  good-looking  chauffeur  of 
yours  on  Thursday.  He  said  he  must  have  till  Saturday  morning, 
and  Mamma  was  so  curious  to  know  what  the  mystery  was,  and 
so  afraid  of  hurting  a  real  live  Prince's  feelings,  that  she  was 
finally  persuaded  to  wait." 

"  Oh,  that  is  the  explanation  of  her  letter  to  me." 

"Yes.  I  suspected  what  was  going  on,  but  she  did  n't;  having 
dimples  makes  people  so  soft  and  good-natured.  I  don't  know 
what  the  Prince  did  after  she  'd  given  her  word  to  stay,  but  I 
guessed." 

"  He  wired  money  to  his  chauffeur  in  Paris  or  somewhere,  had 
the  car  got  out  of  the  clutches  of  that  relative  you  referred  to,  and 
brought  on  here  at  top  speed." 

"  But  not  its  own  speed.  When  it  arrived  here  last  night,  it  was 
just  as  spick  and  span  as  it  is  now." 

"  Then  it  must  have  come  by  train." 

"  That 's  what  I  think.  I  bet  the  Prince  was  too  much  afraid 
some  accident  might  happen  to  it  on  the  way,  and  upset  all  his 
plans,  to  trust  to  having  the  thing  driven  down  here  by  road." 

"  You  must  be  careful  not  to  let  your  brain  develop  too  fast," 
I  pleaded,  "  or  when  you  grow  up,  you  —  ", 

"  That 's  such  a  long  time  off,  I  don't  need  to  worry  yet,"  Miss 
Kidder  remarked  demurely.  "Do  you  thinl&I  look  more  than 
my  age  ?  " 

"  No,  but  you  talk  more,"  said  I. 

*'  How  can  you  judge  ?  What  do  you  know  about  little  girls  like 
me?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  little  girls  like  you,  because  all 


-50  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

the  rest  got  broken;  but  if  you  '11  teach  me,  I  '11  do  my  best  to 
learn." 

"  The  Prince  is  doing  his  best  too,  I  guess.  I  wonder  which  will 
learn  faster?" 

"  That  depends  partly  on  you.  But  I  should  have  thought  all 
his  time  was  taken  up  with  your  mother." 

"  Oh  my!  no.  He  wants  her  to  think  that.  But  you  see,  he  's  got 
more  time  than  anything  else,  so  he  has  plenty  to  spare  for  me, 
and  Maida  too.  Do  you  know  what  he  called  us  to  a  friend  of  his 
in  this  hotel  ?  The  friend's  wife  told  her  maid,  and  she  passed  it 
on  to  our  Agnes,  who  repeated  it  to  me  because  we  were  sending 
her  away.  *  Kid,  Kidder,  Kiddest.'  I  'm  Kiddest,  of  course;  that 's 
easy  enough;  but  it  would  save  the  Prince  lots  of  trouble  and 
brain-fag  if  he  only  knew  which  was  '  Rich, J  which '  Richer,'  and 
which 'Richest.'" 

"Heavens!"  I  ejaculated.  "If  you  have  got  together  all  this 
mass  of  worldly  wisdom  at  thirteen,  what  will  you  have  accumu 
lated  at  twenty?" 

"  It  all  depends  on  when  Mamma  allows  me  to  be  twenty,"  re 
torted  the  little  wretch.  And  what  lengths  this  indecently  frank 
conversation  might  have  reached  between  us  I  dare  not  think, 
had  not  an  exclamation  from  Terry  cut  it  short. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Countess,  and  Miss  Destrey  ?  Have 
I  won  the  bet  ?  "  he  was  demanding,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
his  leather  jacket,  as  he  stood  to  survey  his  work. 

If  I  had  not  infinite  belief  in  Terry's  true  Irish  ingenuity,  I 
would  have  considered  the  day  and  the  bet  both  lost  before  the 
test  had  been  essayed.  But  he  had  justified  my  faith,  and  there  on 
the  almost  obliterated  lines  of  the  motor-car,  behold  a  place  for 
everything,  and  everything  in  its  place. 

On  one  step  the  "  Innovation  "  cabin-box  reared  itself  on  end 
like  a  dwarfish  obelisk ;  a  fat  hold-all  adorned  each  mud-guard, 
where  it  lay  like  an  underdone  suet  pudding;  the  two  huge 
dressing-bags  had  been  pushed  under  the  corner  seats  of  the 
tonneau,  which  fortunately  was  of  generous  dimensions,  while 


A  CHAPTER   OF   HUMILIATIONS  51 

the  third  and  smallest  one  (no  doubt  Miss  Destrey's)  was  so 
placed  that  it  could  be  used  as  a  footstool,  or  pushed  to  the 
front  out  of  the  way.  Umbrellas  and  parasols  stood  upright  in  a 
hanging-basket  especially  designed  for  them;  books  and  maps 
had  disappeared  into  a  box,  which  was  also  a  shelf  on  the  baek 
of  the  driver's  seat,  and  the  tea-basket  had  been  lashed  on  top 
of  this. 

The  Prince's  voice  responded  to  Terry's  question  with  ribald 
mirth  before  it  could  be  answered  by  the  ladies. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha ! "  cried  he,  shouting  with  laughter  at  the  appear 
ance  of  the  car;  and  even  my  lips  twitched,  though  I  would  have 
vowed  it  was  St.  Vitus's  dance  if  anyone  had  accused  me  of  a 
smile.  "  Ha,  ha,  the  automobile  looks  like  nothing  so  much  as  a 
market-woman  going  home  with  the  family  provisions  for  a 
month.  But  will  she  ever  get  home  ?  "  Here  he  became  spasmodic, 
and  as  he  had  made  a  present  of  his  picturesque  smile  to  all  the 
lookers-on  as  well  as  to  those  whom  it  most  concerned,  a  grin  rip 
pled  over  the  faces  of  the  various  groups  as  a  breeze  ruffles  the 
surface  of  a  pond. 

If  I  could  have  done  His  Highness  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  a  mis 
chief  at  this  moment,  without  imperilling  my  whole  future,  I 
would  have  stuck  at  nothing ;  but  there  is  capital  punishment  in 
France,  and,  besides,  there  were  no  weapons  handy  except  the 
ladies'  hatpins.  Still,  it  was  useless  denying  it,  the  car  looked, 
if  not  like  a  market-woman,  at  least  like  a  disreputable  old  tramp 
of  the  motor  world,  with  its  wreaths  of  luggage  looped  on  any 
how,  as  if  it  were  a  string  of  giant  sausages ;  and  I  hated  the 
Prince  not  only  for  his  impertinent  pleasure  in  our  plight,  but  for 
the  proud  magnificence  of  his  car,  which  gained  new  lustre  in  the 
disgrace  of  ours. 

"  You  have  more,  what  do  you  call  it  in  English  —  cheek,  is 
it  not  ?  —  than  most  of  your  countrymen,  to  ask  the  ladies 
whether  they  can  be  satisfied  with  that,'"  he  went  on,  between  his 
mirthful  explosions.  '*  Chere  Countess,  do  not  let  your  kind  heart 
run  away  with  you.  Let  me  tell  Sir  Ralph  Moray  that  it  is  impos- 


52  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

sible  for  you  to  tour  with  him  under  such  conditions,  which  are 
surely  not  what  you  had  a  right  to  expect.  If  you  will  go  with  me, 
that "  —  pointing  a  derisive  finger  at  the  Panhard — "  can  follow 
with  the  luggage." 

Mrs.  Kidder  shook  her  auburn  head,  though  her  dimples  were 
obscured,  and  a  pinkness  of  complexion  for  which  she  had  not 
paid  betrayed  the  fact  that  her  amour  propre  was  writhing  under 
this  ordeal.  Poor  little  woman,  I  really  pitied  her,  for  even  with 
my  slight  knowledge  of  her  character,  I  guessed  that  she  had 
dreamed  of  the  sensation  the  departure  en  automobile  of  a  party 
so  distinguished  would  create  at  the  hotel.  She  had  confidingly 
judged  the  charms  of  the  advertised  car  from  those  of  the  adver 
tisers,  and  this  was  her  reward.  Could  we  blame  her  if,  in  the 
bitterness  of  mortification,  she  yielded  to  the  allurement  of  that 
glittering  car  which  was  our  detractor's  best  argument  ?  But  she 
was  loyal  on  the  rack. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  never  backed  out  of  anything  yet,  and  I  'm 
not  going  to  now.  Besides,  we  don't  want  to,  do  we,  girls  ?  Sir 
Ralph's  automobile  is  just  as  nice  as  it  can  be,  and  it 's  our  fault, 
not  his,  or  Mr.  Barrymore's,  if  we  've  got  a  little  more  luggage 
than  we  were  told  we  ought  to  take.  I  guess  we  '11  get  along  all 
right  as  soon  as  we  're  used  to  it,  and  we  shall  have  the  time  of 
our  lives." 

"  Mamma,  you  're  a  brick,  and  I  'm  glad  Papa  married  you," 
was  Beechy's  paean  of  praise. 

"And  I  think  the  way  our  things  are  arranged  looks  really 
graceful,"  said  Miss  Destrey.  "  Mr.  Barrymore  has  won  that  bet 
easily,  has  n't  he,  Kitty  and  Beechy  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  faintly  from  the  Countess  and  cordially  from  the 
child.  And  I  whistled  "  Hail,  the  Conquering  Hero"  sotto  voce,  as 
Dalmar-Kalm,  with  a  smile  like  a  dose  of  asafcetida,  counted 
out  the  amount  of  his  lost  wager. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  squaring  his  shoulders  to  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  bargain,  "  you  are  three  brave  ladies  to  trust  yourselves  in  a 
machine  without  room,  speed,  or  power  to  cross  the  Alps." 


A   CHAPTER  OF   HUMILIATIONS  53 

"  You  can  go  to  the  Cathedral  at  Monaco  and  pray  for  us  to 
Saint  Joseph,  who,  Agnes  told  me,  looks  after  travellers,"  said 
Beechy.  "  But  I  do  think  a  more  modern  saint  ought  to  be  in 
vented  for  motorists." 

"  I  shall  do  better  than  that.  I  shall  be  your  protecting  saint.  I 
shall  go  with  you  as  a  surgeon  attends  a  company  of  soldiers," 
returned  the  Prince,  with  his  air  of  grand  seigneur.  "  That  is,  I 
shall  keep  as  near  you  as  a  twenty-horse-power  car  with  a  light 
load  can  possibly  keep  to  a  twelve,  with  three  times  the  load  it 's 
fitted  to  carry." 

"  You  're  not  very  complimentary  to  Mamma,"  glibly  re 
marked  the  Irrepressible. 

"I  fancy,  in  spite  of  our  load,"  said  Terry  with  undaunted 
cheerfulness,  "we  shall  find  room  to  stow  away  a  coil  of  rope 
which  may  prove  useful  for  towing  the  Prince's  car  over  some  of 
those  Alps  he  seems  to  think  so  formidable,  in  case  he  decides  to 
—  er  —  follow  us.  If  I  'm  not  mistaken,  Prince,  your  motor  is  a 
Festa,  made  in  Vienna,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  the  most  successful  in  Austria.  And  mine  is  the 
handsomest  car  the  company  has  yet  turned  out.  It  was  a  special 
order." 

"  There  's  an  old  proverb  which  says, '  all  is  n't  gold  that  glit 
ters.'  I  don't  know  whether  it 's  apropos  to  anything  that  con 
cerns  us  or  not,  but  we  shall  perhaps  remember  it  sooner  or  later. 
Now,  ladies,  I  think  everything  is  shipshape,  and  there  's  nothing 
to  keep  us  any  longer.  How  would  you  like  to  sit  ?  Some  people 
think  the  best  place  beside  the  driver,  but  — 

"  Oh,  7  would  n't  sit  there  for  worlds  with  no  horse  in  front  to 
fall  out  on  in  case  anything  happened! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kidder; 
"  and  I  could  n't  let  Beechy  either.  Maida  is  her  own  mistress, 
and  can  do  as  she  likes." 

"  If  that  girl  is  going  to  get  in  the  habit  of  sitting  by  Terry  day 
after  day,"  I  hurriedly  told  myself,  "  I  might  far  better  have  let 
him  sell  his  car  and  grow  ostriches  or  something  in  South  Africa. 
That  idea  shall  be  nipped  before  it  is  a  bud." 


54  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  I  fear  I  should  take  up  too  much  room  in  the  tonneau,"  I 
suggested  with  feigned  meekness.  "  You  ladies  had  better  have  it 
all  to  yourselves,  and  then  you  can  be  comfortable.  Terry  and  I, 
on  the  driver's  seat,  will  act  as  a  kind  of  screen  for  you  against 
the  wind." 

"  But  you  really  don't  take  up  nearly  as  much  room  as  Maida 
does  in  her  thick  motor-coat,"  said  Mrs.  Kidder.  "  If  she  's  not 
afraid  —  " 

"  Of  course  I  'm  not  afraid ! "  cut  in  Maida. 

"  Well,  then,  I  think  it  would  be  nicer  if  Sir  Ralph  sat  with  us, 
Beechy,"  went  on  Mrs.  Kidder,  "unless  it  would  bore  him." 

Naturally  I  had  to  protest  that,  on  the  contrary,  such  an  ar 
rangement  would  be  what  I  most  desired,  had  I  dared  to  consult 
my  own  selfish  wishes.  And  I  had  to  see  the  Vestal  Virgin  (look 
ing  incredibly  interesting  with  her  pure  face  and  dark  eyes 
framed  with  the  motor-hood)  helped  to  seat  herself  in  fatal  prox 
imity  to  my  unfortunate  friend.  Talk  of  a  powder  magazine  and  a 
lighted  match!  —  well,  there  you  have  the  situation  as  I  felt  it, 
though  I  was  powerless  for  the  moment  to  avert  a  catastrophe. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES 

THE  Prince  let  us  take  the  lead.  He  could  start  twenty  min 
utes  later  and  still  easily  pass  us  before  the  frontier,  he 
said.  He  had  two  or  three  telegrams  to  send,  and  one 
or  two  little  affairs  to  settle ;  but  he  would  not  be  long  in 
catching  us  up,  and  after  that  the  ladies  might  count  upon  his 
services  in  any  —  er  —  any  emergency. 

"  He  might  better  have  gone  on  ahead  and  polished  up  that  old 
castle  of  his  a  bit  before  Mrs.  Kidder  sees  it,"  Terry  murmured  to 
me;  but  we  had  no  right  to  object  to  the  Prince's  companionship, 
if  it  were  agreeable  to  our  employers,  and  we  uttered  no  audible 
word  of  dissent  to  his  plan. 

Beechy  and  her  mother  had  the  two  corner  seats  in  the  roomy 
tonneau,  and  I  settled  myself  on  the  flap  which  lets  down  when 
the  door  is  closed.  In  doing  this,  I  was  not  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  if  the  fastening  of  the  door  gave  way  owing  to  vibration  or 
any  other  cause,  I  should  indubitably  go  swinging  out  into  space ; 
also,  that  if  this  disagreeable  accident  did  occur,  it  would  be  my 
luck  to  have  it  happen  when  the  back  of  the  car  was  hanging  over 
a  precipice.  Nevertheless  I  kept  a  calm  face.  These  things  usu 
ally  befall  some  one  else  rather  than  one's  self;  the  kind  of  some 
one  else  you  read  of  over  your  morning  coffee,  murmuring, "  Dear 
me,  how  horrid ! "  before  you  take  another  sip. 

Terry  started  the  car,  and  though  it  carried  five  persons  and 
enough  luggage  for  ten  (I  speak  of  men,  not  women),  we  shot 
away  along  the  perfect  road,  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow. 

At  our  first  fine  panther  bound,  Mrs.  Kidder  half  rose  in  her 

55 


56  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

seat  and  seized  my  right  arm,  while  Beechy's  little  hand  clutched 
anxiously  at  my  left  knee. 

"  Oh,  mercy ! "  the  Countess  exclaimed.  "Tell  him  not  to  go  so 
fast  —  oh,  quick!  we  '11  be  killed." 

"  No,  we  won't,  Don't  be  frightened;  it 's  all  right,"  I  answered 
soothingly,  primed  by  my  late  experience  in  leaving  the  Chalet 
des  Pins.  "  Why,  we  're  going  slowly  —  crawling  at  the  rate  of 
twenty  —  " 

"  Fifteen ! "  laughed  our  chauffeur  over  his  shoulder. 

"Fifteen  miles  an  hour,"  I  amended  my  sentence  wondering 
in  what  way  the  shock  of  surprise  had  affected  the  Vestal  Virgin. 
Somehow  I  could  n't  fancy  her  clawing  weakly  at  any  part  of 
Terry's  person.  "  You  would  n't  have  us  go  slower,  would  you  ? 
The  Prince  is  sure  to  be  watching." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know"  wailed  Mrs.  Kidder.  "I  did  n't  think  it 
would  be  like  this.  Is  n't  it  awful  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  —  I  'm  going  to  like  it  by-and-by,"  gasped  Beechy, 
her  eyes  as  round  as  half-crowns,  and  as  big.  "  Maida,  have  you 
fainted  ?  " 

Miss  Destrey  looked  back  into  the  tonneau,  her  face  pale,  but 
radiant.  "  I  would  n't  waste  time  fainting,"  said  she.  "  I  'm  buck 
ling  on  my  wings." 

"  Wish  she  were  a  coward ! "  I  thought.  "  Terry  hates  'em  like 
poison,  and  would  never  forgive  her  if  she  did  n't  worship  motor 
ing  at  the  first  go-off."  As  for  me,  I  have  always  found  a  certain 
piquant  charm  in  a  timid  woman.  There  is  a  subtle  flattery  in  her 
almost  unconscious  appeal  to  superior  courage  in  man  which  is 
perhaps  especially  sweet  to  an  undersized  chap  like  me ;  and  I  had 
never  felt  more  kindly  to  the  Countess  and  her  daughter  than  I 
did  at  this  moment. 

As  Lothair  with  his  Corisande,  I  "  soothed  and  sustained  their 
agitated  frames  "  so  successfully,  that  the  appealing  hands  stole 
back  to  their  respective  laps,  but  not  to  rest  in  peace  for  long. 
The  car  breasted  the  small  hill  at  the  top  of  the  Cap,  sturdily, 
and  we  sped  on  towards  Mentone,  which,  with  its  twin,  sickle 


A   CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  57 

bays,  was  suddenly  disclosed  like  a  scene  on  the  stage  when  the 
curtains  have  been  noiselessly  drawn  aside.  The  picture  of  the 
beautiful  little  town,  with  its  background  of  clear-cut  mountains, 
called  forth  quavering  exclamations  from  our  reviving  passen 
gers  ;  but  a  few  minutes  later  when  we  were  in  the  long,  straight 
street  of  Mentone,  weaving  our  swift  way  between  coming  and 
going  electric  trams,  all  the  good  work  I  had  accomplished  had  to 
be  done  over  again. 

"  I  can't  stand  it,"  moaned  Mrs.  Kidder,  looking,  in  her  mis 
ery,  like  a  frost-bitten  apple.  "  Oh,  can't  the  man  see  that  street 
car  's  going  to  run  us  down  ?  And  now  there  's  another,  coming 
from  behind.  They  '11  crush  us  between  them.  Mr.  Terrymore, 
stop  —  stop !  I  '11  give  you  a  thousand  dollars  to  take  me  back  to 
Cap  Martin.  Oh,  he  does  n't  hear !  Sir  Ralph  —  why  you  're 
laughing  !  " 

"  Mamma,  you  'd  send  a  mummied  cat  into  hysterics,"  gig 
gled  Beechy.  "  I  guess  together  we  'd  make  the  fortune  of  a  dime 
museum,  if  they  could  show  us  now.  But  the  cars  did  n't  run  over 
us,  did  they  ?  " 

"  No,  but  the  next  ones  will  —  and  oh,  this  cart !  Mr.  Terry- 
more  's  the  queerest  man,  he  's  steering  right  for  it.  No,  we  've 
missed  it  this  time." 

"  We  '11  miss  it  every  time,  you  '11  see,"  I  reassured  her.  "  Bar- 
rymore  is  a  magnificent  driver;  and  look,  Miss  Destrey  is  n't  ner 
vous  at  all." 

"  She  has  n't  got  as  much  to  live  for  as  Mamma  and  I  have," 
said  Beechy,  trying  to  hide  the  fact  that  she  was  holding  on  to  the 
side  of  the  car.  "You  might  almost  as  well  be  smashed  in  an 
automobile  as  end  your  days  in  a  convent." 

Here  was  a  revelation,  but  before  I  had  time  to  question  the 
speaker  further,  she  and  her  mother  were  clinging  to  me  again  as 
if  I  were  a  Last  Straw  or  a  Forlorn  Hope. 

This  sort  of  thing  lasted  for  four  or  five  minutes,  which  doubt 
less  appeared  long  to  them,  but  they  were  not  in  the  least  tedious 
for  me.  I  was  quite  enjoying  myself  as  a  Refuge  for  Shipwrecked 


58  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

Mariners,  and  I  was  rather  sorry  than  otherwise  when  the  mari 
ners  began  to  find  their  own  bearings.  They  saw  that,  though 
their  escapes  seemed  to  be  by  the  breadth  of  a  hair,  they  always 
were  escapes,  and  that  no  one  was  anxious  except  themselves. 
They  probably  remembered,  also,  that  we  were  not  pioneers  in 
the  sport  of  motoring ;  that  some  thousands  of  other  people  had 
done  what  we  were  doing  now,  if  not  worse,  and  still  lived  to  tell 
the  tale  —  with  exaggerations. 

Presently  the  strained  look  left  their  faces ;  their  bodies  became 
less  rigid;  and  when  they  began  to  take  an  interest  in  the  shops 
and  villas  I  knew  that  the  worst  was  over.  My  arm  and  knee  felt 
lonely  and  deserted,  as  if  their  mission  in  life  had  been  accom 
plished,  and  they  were  now  mere  obstacles,  occupying  unneces 
sary  space  in  the  tonneau. 

As  for  Terry,  I  could  see  by  the  set  of  his  shoulders  and  the 
way  he  held  his  head  that  he  was  pleased  with  life,  for  he  is  one 
of  those  persons  who  shows  his  feelings  in  his  back.  He  had 
fought  against  the  idea  of  this  trip,  but  now  that  the  idea  was 
crystallizing  into  fact  he  was  happy  in  spite  of  himself.  After  all, 
what  could  he  ask  for  that  he  had  not  at  this  moment  ?  The 
steering  wheel  of  his  beloved  motor  (preserved  for  him  by  my 
cunning)  under  his  hand ;  beside  him  a  plucky  and  beautiful  girl ; 
behind  him  a  devoted  friend ;  in  front,  the  fairest  country  in  the 
world,  and  a  road  which  would  lead  him  to  the  Alps  and  to  Pied 
mont;  to  stately  Milan  and  to  the  blue,  rapturous  reaches  of 
Como;  a  road  that  would  beckon  him  on  and  on,  past  villages 
sleeping  under  cypresses  on  sunny  hillsides  to  Verona,  the  city  of 
the  "star-crossed  lovers;"  to  Giotto's  Padua,  and  by  peerless 
Venice  to  strange  Dalmatia,  where  Christian  and  Moslem  look 
distrustfully  into  one  anothers'  eyes. 

What  all  this  would  be  to  Terry  I  knew,  even  though  he  was 
playing  a  part  distasteful  to  him ;  for  if  he  had  missed  being  born 
an  Irishman,  and  had  reconciled  it  to  his  sense  of  humour  to  be 
born  at  all,  he  would  certainly  have  been  born  an  Italian.  He 
loves  Italy ;  he  breathes  the  air  as  the  air  of  home,  drawn  grate- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  59 

fully  into  the  lungs  after  a  long  absence.  He  learned  to  speak 
Italian  as  easily  as  he  learned  to  walk,  and  he  could  pour  out 
liquid  line  after  line  of  old  Italian  poetry,  if  he  had  not  all  a 
British  male's  self-conscious  fear  of  making  an  ass  of  himself. 
History  was  the  only  thing  except  cricket  and  rowing,  in  wThich 
he  distinguished  himself  at  Oxford,  and  Italian  history  was  to 
him  what  novels  are  to  most  boys,  though  had  it  occurred  to  him 
at  the  time  that  he  was  "  improving  his  mind  "  by  reading  it,  he 
would  probably  have  shut  up  the  book  in  disgust. 

He  was  not  a  stranger  in  the  country  to  which  we  were  going, 
though  he  had  never  entered  it  by  this  gate,  and  most  of  his  mc- 
toring  had  been  done  in  France ;  but  I  knew  that  he  would  revel 
in  visiting  once  more  the  places  he  loved,  in  his  own  car. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Italy  ?  "  I  asked  the  Countess,  but  she 
was  evilly  fascinated  by  a  dog  which  seemed  bent  on  committing 
suicide  under  our  car,  and  it  was  Beechy  who  answered. 

"We've  never  been  anywhere  before,  any  of  us,"  she  said. 
"Mamma  and  I  only  had  our  machinery  set  running  a  few 
months  ago,  but  now  we  are  wound  up,  goodness  knows  how  far 
we  '11  get.  As  for  Maida  —  she  's  no  mechanical  doll  like  u<. 
But  do  you  know  the  play  about  the  statue  that  came  to  life  ?  " 

"Galatea?"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,  that's  the  name.  Maida 's  like  that;  and  I  suppose 
she  '11  go  back  as  soon  as  she  can,  and  ask  to  be  turned  into  a 
statue  again." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  ventured  to  inquire ;  for  these  hints 
of  the  child's  about  her  cousin  were  gradually  consuming  me  to  a 
grey  ash  with  curiosity. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  what  I  mean,  because  I  promised  I  would  n't. 
But  that 's  what  Maida  means." 

"  What  she  means  ?  " 

"Yes,  to  go  back  and  be  turned  into  a  statue,  forever  and 
ever." 

I  ought  to  have  been  glad  that  the  girl  destined  herself  for  a 
colder  fate  than  a  union  with  a  happy-go-lucky  Irishman  as  poor 


60  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

as  herself,  but  somehow  I  was  not  glad.  Watching  the  light  glint 
on  a  tendril  of  spun  gold  which  had  blown  out  from  the  motor- 
hood,  I  could  not  wish  her  young  heart  to  be  turned  to  marble  in 
that  mysterious  future  to  which  Beechy  Kidder  hinted  she  was 
self -destined. 

"Perhaps  I  'd  better  make  love  to  her  myself,"  was  the  sug 
gestion  that  flashed  into  my  mind ;  but  innate  canniness  sturdily 
pushed  it  out  again.  With  my  seven  hundred  a  year,  and  The  Ri 
viera  Sun  only  just  beginning  to  shed  a  few  golden  beams,  I 
could  not  afford  to  take  a  penniless  beauty  off  Terry's  hands, 
even  to  save  him  from  a  disastrous  marriage  or  her  from  the 
fate  of  Galatea. 

Yet  what  a  day  it  was  in  which  to  live  and  love,  and  motor 
over  perfect  roads  through  that  radiant  summer-land  which  the 
Ligurians  loved,  the  Romans  conquered,  and  the  modern  world 
comes  from  afar  to  see. 

Though  it  was  early  in  April,  with  Easter  but  a  few  days  be 
hind  us,  the  sky,  the  air,  the  flowers,  belonged  to  June  —  a  rare, 
rich  June  to  praise  in  poetry  or  song.  Billows  of  roses  surged  over 
old  pink  and  yellow  stucco  walls,  or  a  soaring  flame  of  scarlet 
geranium  ran  along  their  tops  devouring  trails  of  ivy  with  a  hun 
dred  fiery  tongues.  White  villas  were  draped  with  gorgeous  pano 
ply  of  purple-red  bougainvillea ;  the  breeze  in  our  faces  was  sweet 
with  the  scent  of  lemon  blossoms  and  a  heavier  under-tone  of 
white-belled  datura.  Far  away,  over  that  polished  floor  of  lapis- 
lazuli  which  was  the  sea,  summer  rain-clouds  boiled  up  above 
the  horizon,  blue  with  the  soft  grey-blue  of  violets;  and  in  the 
valleys,  between  horned  or  pointed  mountains,  we  saw  spurts  of 
golden  rain  glittering  in  the  morning  sun. 

What  a  world !  How  good  to  be  in  it,  to  be  "  in  the  picture  " 
because  one  had  youth,  and  was  not  hideous  to  look  upon.  How 
good  to  be  in  a  motor-car.  This  last  thought  made  the  chorus  at 
the  end  of  each  verse  for  me.  I  was  very  glad  I  had  put  that  ad 
vertisement  in  The  Riviera  Sun,  and  that "  Kid,  Kidder,  and  Kid- 
dest "  had  been  before  any  one  else  in  answering  it. 


A  CHAPTER   OF  ADVENTURES  61 

I  could  hear  Terry  telling  Miss  Destrey  things,  and  I  knew 
that  if  they  listened  the  others  could  hear  him  too.  This  was  well, 
because  an  unfailing  flow  of  information  was  included  in  the  five 
guineas  a  day,  and  I  should  have  been  embarrassed  had  I,  as  the 
supposed  owner  of  the  car,  been  called  upon  to  supply  it. 

I  listened  with  a  lazy  sense  of  proprietorship  in  the  man,  as  my 
chauffeur  related  the  pretty  legend  of  St.  Agnes's  ruined  castle 
and  the  handsome  Pagan  who  had  loved  the  Christian  maiden ; 
while  he  described  the  exquisite  walks  to  be  found  up  hidden  val 
leys  among  the  serrated  mountains  behind  Mentone;  and  en 
larged  upon  the  charms  of  picnics  with  donkeys  and  lunch-bas 
kets  under  canopies  of  olives  or  pines,  with  a  carpet  of  violets  and 
primroses. 

He  seemed  well  up  in  the  history  of  the  Grimaldis  and  that  ex 
citing  period  when  Mentone  and  legend -crusted  Roquebrune 
had  been  under  the  rule  of  tyrannical  princes  of  that  name,  as 
well  as  Hercules's  rock,  Monaco,  still  their  own.  He  knew,  orpre- 
tended  to  know,  the  precise  date  when  Napoleon  III.  filched 
Nice  and  Savoy  from  reluctant  Italy  as  the  price^of  help  against 
the  hated  Austrians.  Altogether,  I  was  so  pleased  with  the  way  in 
which  he  was  beginning,  that  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  raise 
his  wages  had  he  been  my  paid  chauffeur. 

We  skimmed  past  Englishmen  and  English  or  American  girls 
in  Panama  hats,  on  their  way  to  bathe  or  play  tennis;  on  all 
hands  we  heard  the  English  tongue.  Skirting  the  Old  Town, 
piled  high  upon  its  narrow  nose  of  land,  we  entered  the  East  Bay, 
and  so  climbed  up  to  the  French  side  of  the  Pont  St.  Louis. 

"  Now  for  some  red  tape,"  explained  Terry.  "  When  I  came  to 
the  Riviera  this  season  I  had  no  idea  of  going  further,  and  I  'm 
sorry  to  say  I  left  my  papers  in  London,  where  apparently 
they  've  disappeared.  But  as  the  Countess  doesn  't  care  to  come 
back  into  France,  I  hope  it  won't  matter  much." 

As  he  spoke,  a  douanier  lounged  out  of  his  little  whitewashed 
lair,  and  asked  for  that  which  Terry  had  just  said  he  had 
not. 


62  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

"I  have  no  papers,"  Terry  informed  him,  with  a  smile  so 
agreeable  that  one  hoped  it  might  take  away  the  sting. 

"  But  you  intend  to  return  to  France  ?  "  persisted  the  official, 
who  evidently  gave  even  a  foreigner  credit  for  wishing  to  rush 
back  to  the  best  country  on  earth  with  as  little  delay  as  possi 
ble. 

"  No,"  said  Terry  apologetically.  "  We  are  on  our  way  to  Italy 
and  Austria,  and  may  go  eventually  to  England  by  the  Hook  of 
Holland." 

The  douanier  gave  us  up  as  hopeless,  with  a  resigned  shrug  of 
his  shoulders.  He  vanished  into  his  lair,  consulted  a  superior  offi 
cer,  and  after  a  long  delay  returned  with  the  news  that  we  must 
pay  ten  centimes,  probably  as  a  penance  for  our  mulish  stupidity 
in  leaving  France. 

I  dropped  a  penny  into  his  palm. 

"  Will  you  have  a  receipt  for  this  sum  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No,  thanks,"  I  smiled.  "I  have  infinite  trust  in  your 
integrity." 

"  Perhaps  we  'd  better  get  the  receipt  all  the  same,"  said 
Terry.  "  I  've  never •  been  paperless  before,  and  there  may  be 
some  fuss  or  other." 

"  It  took  them  twenty  minutes  to  decide  about  their  silly  ten 
centimes,"  said  the  Countess  "  and  it  will  take  them  twenty  more 
at  least  to  make  out  a  receipt  for  it.  Do  let 's  go  on,  if  he  '11  let  us. 
I  'm  dying  to  see  what  's  on  the  other  side  of  this  bridge.  We 
have  n't  been  over  into  Italy  before;  there  was  so  much  to  do  in 
Nice  and  Monte  Carlo." 

"All  right,  we  '11  risk  it,  then,  as  you  wish  it,"  Terry  agreed; 
and  our  prophetic  souls  did  not  even  turn  over  in  their  sleep. 

On  we  went,  up  the  steep  hill  which,  with  our  load,  we  were 
obliged  to  climb  so  slowly  that  Terry  and  I  were  ashamed  for  the 
car,  and  tried  diplomatically  to  make  it  appear  that,  had  we 
liked,  we  could  have  flown  up  with  undiminished  speed. 

Terry  pointed  out  objects  of  interest  here  and  there.  I  ques 
tioned  him  rapidly  and  he,  playing  into  my  hand,  answered  as 


As  he  spoke  a  douanier  lounged  out  of  his  little 
whitewashed  lair 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  63 

quickly,  so  that,  if  our  wheels  lagged,  our  tongues  gave  the  effect 
of  keeping  up  a  rattling  pace. 

"  Don't  you  think  there  's  something  particularly  interesting 
and  romantic  about  frontiers  ?  "  asked  Terry  of  the  company  in 
general.  "  Only  a  fictitious  and  arbitrary  dividing  line,  one  would 
say,  and  yet  what  a  difference  on  either  side,  one  from  the  other! 
Different  languages,  different  customs,  prejudices  so  different 
that  people  living  within  ten  yards  of  each  other  are  ready  to  go 
to  war  over  them.  Here,  for  instance,  though  the  first  thing  one 
thinks  of  in  crossing  the  bridge  is  the  splendid  view,  the  second 
thought  that  comes  must  be,  how  bare  the  Italian  country  looks 
compared  to  the  luxuriant  cultivation  we  're  leaving  behind. 
We  're  turning  our  backs  now  on  cosy  comfort,  well-kept  roads, 
tidy  houses,  tidy  people;  and  we  're  on  our  way  to  meet  beggars, 
shabbiness,  and  rags,  poverty  everywhere  staring  us  in  the 
face.  Yet  much  as  I  admire  France,  it 's  to  Italy  I  give  my 
love. " 

"Talking  of  frontiers,"  I  flung  back  the  ball  to  him,  "I  've 
often  asked  myself  why  it  is  that  a  whole  people  should  with  one 
accord  worship  coffin-beds,  six  inches  too  short  for  a  normal  hu 
man  being,  hard  wedges  instead  of  bolsters,  and  down  coverings 
three  feet  thick;  while  another  whole  people  just  round  a  geo 
graphical  corner  fiercely  demand  brass  beds,  springy  mattresses, 
and  blankets  light  as  —  as  love.  But  nobody  has  ever  satisfactor 
ily  answered  that  question,  which  may  be  far  more  important  in 
solving  the  profound  mysterv  of  racial  differences  than  it  would 
seem. " 

"  Why  are  you  prudent  and  economical,  and  I  reckless  and  ex 
travagant  ?  "  inquired  Terry.  * 

"  Because  I  come  from  the  country  that  took  over  England, 
and  you  from  the  country  that  England  took  over, "  I  explained. 
But  Terry  only  laughed,  being  too  busy  to  pick  up  the  cudgels 
for  his  native  land.  "  Probably  that 's  also  why  I  'm  a  chauffeur 
while  you  're  an  editor, "  he  added,  and  Miss  Destrey's  little  nose 
and  long  curve  of  dark  eyelash,  seen  by  me  in  profile,  expressed 


64  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

the  sympathy  which  one  young  soul  in  misfortune  must  feel  for 
another. 

"  Now  we  're  in  Italy, "  he  went  on.  "  What  I  said  is  coming 
true  already.  Look  at  these  carts  crawling  to  meet  us  down  the 
hill.  The  harness  seems  to  be  a  mere  collection  of  '  unconsidered 
trifles/  picked  up  accidently  by  the  drivers;  bits  of  leather, 
string  and  rope.  And  the  road  you  see  is  strewn  with  loose 
stones,  though  a  few  metres  further  back  it  was  so  smooth  one 
might  dance  on  it.  In  dear,  lazy  Italy,  steam-rollers  are  almost  as 
unknown  as  dragons.  In  most  districts,  if  one  wants  to  mend  a 
road,  one  dumps  some  stones  on  it,  and  trusts  to  luck  and  traffic 
to  have  them  eventually  ground  in.  But  luckily  our  tyres  are  al 
most  as  trustworthy  as  the  Bank  of  England,  and  we  don't  need 
to  worry  about  the  roads.  " 

At  the  pink  Italian  custom  house  Terry  got  down  and  van 
ished  within,  to  pay  the  deposit  and  receive  certain  documents 
without  which  we  could  not  "  circulate  "  on  Italian  soil.  Far  above 
our  heads  looked  down  the  old,  brown  keep  of  the  Grimaldis, 
once  lords  of  all  the  azure  coast;  below  us  glittered  Mentone, 
pink  and  blue  and  golden  in  the  sun;  beyond  Monte  Carlo  sat 
throned,  siren-like,  upon  her  rock. 

Terry  had  scarcely  engaged  the  attention  of  the  officials  when 
the  buzz  of  a  motor,  livelier  and  more  nervous  than  our  faithful 
"thrum,  thrum,"  called  to  us  to  turn  our  heads;  and  there  was 
Prince  Dalmar-Kalm's  brilliant  car  flying  up  the  hill,  even  as  we 
had  wished  to  fly. 

The  Prince  stopped  his  motor  close  to  ours,  to  speak  with 
the  Countess  sitting  alone  in  it,  and  announced  that  he  would 
have  overtaken  us  long  ago,  had  he  not  found  himself  obliged  to 
pause  for  a  talk  with  the  ex-Empress  Eugenie. 

This  announcement  much  impressed  Mrs.  Kidder,  who  doubt 
less  realized  more  fully  than  before  her  good  fortune  in  having 
such  a  distinguished  personage  for  a  travelling  companion. 

He  stood  leaning  on  the  side  of  our  luggage-wreathed  vehicle, 
with  an  air  of  charming  condescension.  There  was  no  need  for 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  65 

him  to  hurry  over  the  formalities  of  the  douane,  he  said,  for  even 
if  he  were  considerably  behind  us  in  starting,  he  would  catch  us 
up  soon  after  we  had  reached  La  Mortola. 

Thus  beguiled,  the  half -hour  occupied  by  the  leisurely  officials 
in  providing  us  with  papers  and  sealing  the  car  with  an  impor 
tant  looking  leaden  seal,  passed  not  too  tediously  for  the  ladies. 
Finally,  the  Prince  saw  us  off,  smiling  a  "  turned-down  smile  "  at 
our  jog  trot  as  we  proceeded  up  that  everlasting  hill,  which  runs 
like  a  shelf  along  the  face  of  the  great  grey  cliff  of  rock. 

Far  below,  azure  waves  draped  the  golden  beach  with  blue  and 
silver  gauze  and  fringed  it  daintily  with  a  foam  of  lace. 

Then,  at  last,  the  steep  ascent  came  to  an  end,  with  a  curve  of 
the  road  which  plunged  us  down  into  a  region  of  coolness  and 
green  shadow. 

"Why,  I  don't  think  Italy  's  so  shabby  after  all,"  exclaimed 
the  Countess.  "  Just  see  that  pretty  little  Maltese  cross  above  the 
road,  and  that  fine  school-house  —  " 

"  Ah,  but  we  're  in  Hanbury-land  now, "  I  said. 

"  Hanbury-land  ?  I  never  heard  of  it.  Is  it  a  little  independent 
principality  like  Monacoa  ?  But  how  funny  it  should  have  an 
English-sounding  name  sandwiched  in  right  here  between  Italy 
and  France. " 

"The  lord  of  the  land  is  an  Englishman,  and  a  benevolent 
one,  a  sort  of  fairy  god-father  to  the  poor  in  all  the  country 
round, "  I  explained.  "  You  won't  find  Hanbury-land  mentioned 
on  the  map  ;  nevertheless  it 's  very  real,  fortunately  for  its  inhab 
itants  ;  and  here  's  the  gate  of  the  garden  which  leads  to  the  royal 
palace.  La  Mortola  is  a  great  show  place,  for  the  public  are  al 
lowed  to  go  in  on  certain  days.  I  forget  if  this  is  one  of  them,  but 
perhaps  they  will  let  us  see  the  garden,  nevertheless.  Shall  I  ask  ?'* 

It  was  in  my  mind  that,  if  we  stopped,  we  might  miss  the 
Prince  as  well  as  see  the  garden,  so  that  we  should  be  killing  two 
birds  with  one  stone,  and  I  was  glad  when  the  Countess  caught 
eagerly  at  the  suggestion  that  we  should  beg  for  a  glimpse  of  La 
Mortola,  a  place  famed  throughout  Europe. 


«6  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

Permission  was  given ;  the  big  iron  gates  swung  open  to  admit 
us.  We  entered,  and  a  moment  later  were  descending  a  long 
flight  of  stone  steps  to  terraces  far  below  the  level  of  the  road 
where  the  car  stood  waiting  our  return. 

Had  Aladdin  rubbed  his  lamp  in  the  days  before  his  unfortu 
nate  misunderstanding  with  the  Geni  and  demanded  the  most 
beautiful  of  gardens,  the  fulfilment  of  his  wish  could  have  taken 
no  fairer  form  than  this.  Strange,  tropical  flowers,  vivid  as  flame, 
burned  in  green  recesses;  water-sprites  upset  their  caskets  of 
pearls  over  rock-shelves  into  translucent  pools  where  lilies  lay 
asleep,  dreaming  of  their  own  pale  beauty.  Long,  green  pergolas, 
starred  with  flowers,  framed  blue-veiled  pictures  of  distant  coast 
line,  and  mediaeval  strongholds,  coloured  with  the  same  burnt  um 
ber  as  the  hills  on  which  they  stood,  gloomed  and  glowed  across  a 
cobalt  sea. 

There  is  nothing  that  pleases  the  normal  male  more  than  to  be 
able  to  point  out  objects  worthy  of  interest  or  admiration  to  the 
female  of  his  kind.  Since  time  immemorial,  have  not  landscape- 
pictures  in  books  of  travel  been  filled  in,  in  the  foreground,  with 
the  figures  of  men  showing  the  scenery  to  women  ?  Did  any  one 
ever  see  such  a  work  of  art  representing  a  woman  as  indicating 
any  point  of  view  to  a  man  ?  No  doubt  many  could  have  done  so ; 
and  the  ladies  in  the  pictures  had  probably  noticed  the  objects  in 
question  before  their  male  escorts  pointed  to  them ;  but  knowing 
the  amiable  weakness  ot  the  other  sex,  they  politely  refrained 
from  saying,  "  Oh,  we  saw  that  long  ago. " 

Thus  did  Terry  and  I,  after  the  conventional  traditions  of  our 
species,  lead  our  little  party  through  avenues  of  cypresses,  to  open 
rock-spaces,  or  among  a  waving  sea  of  roses  to  battle-grounds  of 
rare  cacti,  with  writhing  arms  like  octopi  transformed  into  plants. 

Here,  peering  down  into  a  kind  of  dyke,  paved  with  rough  tes- 
selation,  we  vied  with  each  other  in  telling  our  charges  that  this 
was  the  old  Roman  road  to  Gaul,  the  Aurelian  Way,  over 
which  Julius  Caesar,  St.  Catherine  of  Siena,  Dante,  and  other 
great  ones  passed.  Then  we  showed  them  one  of  Napoleon's  old 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  67 

guns,  covered  with  shells,  as  when  it  was  fished  out  of  the  sea. 
We  enlarged  upon  the  fact  that  there  was  no  tree,  shrub,  or  blos 
som  on  the  known  face  of  the  earth  of  which  a  specimen  did  not 
grow  at  La  Mortola ;  and  when  we  had  wandered  for  an  hour  in 
the  garden  without  seeing  half  there  was  to  see,  we  climbed  the 
long  flight  of  steps  again,  congratulating  ourselves  —  Terry  and  I 
—  that  we  had  played  Dalmar-Kalm  rather  a  neat  trick.  The 
crowd  of  villagers  who  had  clustered  round  our  car  outside  the 
entrance  gates  would  screen  it  from  the  Prince  as  he  flashed  by, 
and  he  would  go  on  and  on,  wondering  how  we  had  contrived  to 
get  so  far  ahead. 

Our  way  would  take  us,  after  passing  through  Ventimiglia,  up 
the  Roya  Valley  which  Terry  had  decided  upon  as  a  route  be 
cause  of  its  wild  and  unspoiled  beauty,  different  from  anything 
that  our  passengers  could  have  seen  in  their  brief  experience  of 
the  Riviera.  But  as  there  were  no  inns  which  offered  decent  en 
tertainment  for  man  or  automobile  within  reasonable  distance, 
we  were  to  lunch  at  Ventimiglia,  arid  no  arrangement  had  been 
made  with  Dalmar-Kalm  concerning  this  halt.  His  confidence — 
perhaps  well  founded — in  the  superiority  of  his  speed  over  ours 
had  led  him  to  believe  that  he  could  pause  at  our  side  for  consul 
tation  whenever  he  wished.  Therefore,  we  had  left  Cap  Martin 
without  much  discussion  of  plans.  Mrs.  Kidder  was  of  opinion 
that  we  would  find  him  waiting  in  front  of  the  "  best  hotel  in  Ven 
timiglia,"  with  an  excellent  luncheon  ordered. 

"  The  best  hotel  in  Ventimiglia ! "  poor  lady,  she  had  an  awak 
ening  before  her.  Not  only  was  there  no  Prince,  but  there  was  no 
best  hotel.  Old  Ventimiglia,  in  its  huddled  picturesqueness,  must 
delight  any  man  with  eyes  in  his  head ;  new  Ventimiglia  must  dis 
gust  any  man  with  a  vacancy  under  his  belt.  As  we  sat  in  the 
shabby  dining-room  of  a  seventh-rate  inn  (where  the  flies  set  an 
example  of  attentiveness  the  waiters  did  not  follow),  pretending 
to  eat  macaroni  hard  as  walking-sticks  and  veal  reduced  to  chif 
fons,  I  feared  the  courage  of  our  employers  would  fail.  They 
could  never,  in  all  their  well-ordered  American  lives,  have  known 


68  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

anything  so  abominable  as  this  experience  into  which  we  had 
lured  them,  promising  a  pilgrimage  of  pleasure.  But  the  charm 
ingly  dressed  beings,  who  looked  like  birds  of  paradise  alighted 
by  mistake  in  a  pigsty,  made  sport  of  the  squalor  which  we  had 
expected  to  evoke  their  rage. 

"  Dear  me,  I  wish  we  'd  brought  some  chewing  gum,"  was 
Beechy's  one  sarcasm  at  the  expense  of  the  meal,  and  Maida  and 
the  Countess  laughed  merrily  at  everything,  even  the  flies,  which 
they  thought  did  not  know  their  own  power  as  well  as  American 
jflies. 

"  We  've  some  lovely  cakes  and  candy  packed  in  that  sweet 
tea-basket  we  bought  at  an  English  shop  in  Paris,"  said  Mrs. 
Kidder;  "  but  I  suppose  we  'd  better  not  get  anything  out  to  eat 
now,  for  fear  of  hurting  the  waiters'  feelings.  What  do  you  think, 
Sir  Ralph  ?  " 

"  Personally,  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  to  hurt  them," 
I  replied  severely,  "  but  I  'm  thinking  of  myself.  Cakes  and  candy 
on  top  of  those  walking-sticks !  'T  were  more  difficult  to  build  on 
such  a  foundation  than  to  rear  Venice  on  its  piles  and  wattles. 

"  We  'd  better  save  what  we  have  till  later  on,"  said  Maida. 
"  About  four  o'clock,  perhaps  we  shall  be  glad  to  stop  somewhere, 
and  I  can  make  tea.  It  will  be  fun  having  it  in  the  auto 
mobile." 

"  There  she  goes  now,  revealing  domestic  virtues ! "  I  thought 
ruefully.  "  It  will  be  too  much  for  Teddy  to  find  her  an  all-round 
out-of-doors  and  indoors  girl  in  one.  He  always  said  the  combi 
nation  did  n't  exist ;  that  you  had  to  put  up  with  one  or  the  other 
in  a  nice  girl,  and  be  jolly  thankful  for  what  you  'd  got." 

But  Terry  did  not  seem  to  be  meditating  upon  the  pleasing 
trait  just  brought  to  light  by  his  travelling  companion.  He  re 
marked  calmly  that  by  tea-time  we  should  doubtless  have  reached 
San  Dalmazzo,  a  charming  little  mountain  village  with  an  old 
monastery  turned  into  an  inn;  and  then  he  audibly  wondered 
what  had  become  of  the  Prince. 

"  My !  What  a  shame,  I  'd  almost  forgotten  him ! "  exclaimed 


A   CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  69 

Mrs.  Kidder.  "  He  must  have  given  us  up  in  despair  and  gone 
on." 

"  Perhaps  he  's  had  a  break-down,"  I  suggested. 

"  What !  with  that  wonderful  car  ?  He  told  me  last  night  that 
nothing  had  ever  happened  to  it  yet.  He  must  be  miles  ahead  of 
us  by  now." 

"  Then  this  is  his  astral  body,"  said  Terry.  "  Clever  of  him  to 
'project*  one  for  his  car  too.  Never  heard  of  its  being  done 
before." 

Nor  had  I  ever  heard  of  an  astral  body  who  swore  roundly  at 
its  chauffeur,  which  this  apparition  now  stopping  in  front  of  the 
restaurant  windows  did.  It  called  the  unfortunate  shape  in 
leather  by  several  strange  and  creditably,  or  perhaps  discred 
itably,  original  names,  but  as  this  flow  of  eloquence  was  in 
German,  it  could  not  be  appreciated  by  the  ladies.  Mrs.  Kidder 
knew  the  languages  not  at  all,  and  Miss  Destrey  and  Beechy  had 
remarked,  when  Dalmatia  was  proposed,  that  their  knowledge 
was  of  the  copy-book  order. 

So  completely  upset  was  the  Prince,  that  on  joining  us  he  for 
got  to  be  sarcastic.  Not  a  question,  not  a  sneer  as  to  our  progress, 
not  an  apology  for  being  late.  He  flung  himself  into  a  chair  at  the 
table,  ordered  the  waiters  about  with  truculence,  and,  having 
thus  relieved  his  mind,  began  complaining  of  his  bad  luck. 

An  Austrian  Prince,  when  cross  and  hungry,  can  be  as  unde 
sirable  a  social  companion  as  a  Cockney  cad,  and  the  Countess's 
distinguished  friend  did  not  show  to  advantage  in  the  scene 
which  followed.  Yes,  there  had  been  an  accident.  It  was  unheard 
of  —  abominable ;  entirely  the  fault  of  the  chauffeur.  Chauffeurs 
(and  he  looked  bleakly  at  Terry)  were  without  exception  brutes 
—  detestable  brutes.  You  put  up  with  them  because  you  had  to; 
that  was  all.  The  automobile  had  merely  stopped.  It  must  have 
been  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world  for  a  professional  to  dis 
cover  what  was  wrong;  yet  this  animal,  Joseph,  could  do  nothing 
but  poke  his  nose  into  the  machinery  and  then  shrug  his  hideous 
shoulders.  Why  yes,  he  had  taken  out  the  valves,  of  course,  ex- 


70  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

amined  the  sparkling  plugs,  and  tested  the  coil.  Any  amateur 
could  have  done  so  much.  It  gave  a  good  spark;  there  was  no 
short  circuit;  yet  the  motor  would  not  start,  and  the  chauffeur 
was  unable  to  give  an  explanation.  Twice  he  had  taken  the  car  to 
pieces  without  result  —  absolutely  to  pieces.  Then,  and  not  till 
then,  had  the  creature  found  wit  enough  to  think  of  the  carburet 
ter.  There  was  the  trouble,  and  nowhere  else.  All  that  delay  and 
misery  had  been  caused  by  some  grit  which  had  penetrated  into 
the  carburetter  and  prevented  the  needle  working.  This  it  was  to 
have  a  donkey  instead  of  a  chauffeur. 

"  But  it  did  n't  occur  to  you  that  it  might  be  the  carburetter," 
said  Terry,  taking  advantage  of  a  pause  made  by  the  arrival  of 
the  Prince's  luncheon,  which  that  gentleman  attacked  with 
ardour. 

"Why  should  it?"  haughtily  inquired  Dalmar-Kalm.  "I  am 
not  engaged  in  that  business.  I  pay  other  people  to  think  for  me. 
Besides,  it  is  not  with  me  as  with  you  and  your  friend,  who  must 
be  accustomed  to  accidents  of  all  sorts  on  a  low-powered  car, 
somewhat  out  of  date.  But  I  am  not  used  to  having  mine  en 
panne.  Never  mind,  it  will  not  happen  again.  M on  Dieu,  what  a 
meal  to  set  before  ladies.  I  do  not  care  for  myself,  but  surely,  Sir 
Ralph,  it  would  have  been  easy  to  find  a  better  place  than  this 
to  give  the  ladies  luncheon  ?  " 

"  Sir  Ralph  and  Mr.  Barrymore  wanted  us  to  go  to  the  railway- 
station,"  Miss  Destrey  defended  us,  "  but  we  thought  it  would  be 
dull,  and  preferred  this,  so  our  blood  is  on  our  own  heads." 

We  finished  gloomily  with  lukewarm  coffee,  which  was  so  long 
on  the  way  that  the  Countess  thought  we  might  as  well  wait  for 
the  "poor  Prince."  Then,  when  we  were  ready,  came  a  violent 
shower,which  meant  more  waiting,  as  the  Countess  did  not  agree 
cordially  with  her  daughter's  remark  that  to  "  drive  in  the  rain 
would  be  good  for  the  complexion." 

When  at  last  we  were  able  to  start  it  was  after  three,  and  we 
should  have  to  make  good  speed  if  we  were  to  arrive  at  San  Dal- 
mazzo  even  by  late  tea-time.  Terry  was  on  his  mettle,  however, 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  71 

and  I  guessed  that  he  was  anxious  our  first  day  should  not  end 
in  failure. 

Tooling  out  of  Ventimiglia,  that  grim  frontier  town  whose  name 
has  become  synonymous  to  travellers  with  waiting  and  desperate 
resignation,  we  turned  up  by  the  side  of  the  Roya,  where  the 
stream  gushes  seaward,  through  many  channels,  in  a  wide  and 
pebbly  bed.  The  shower  just  past,  though  brief,  had  been  heavy 
enough  to  turn  a  thick  layer  of  white  dust  into  a  greasy,  grey 
paste  of  mud.  On  our  left  was  a  sudden  drop  into  the  rushing 
river,  on  the  right  a  deep  ditch,  and  the  road  between  was  as 
round-shouldered  as  a  hunchback.  Seeing  this  natural  phenome 
non,  and  feeling  the  slightly  uncertain  step  of  our  fat  tyres  as  they 
waddled  through  the  pasty  mud,  the  pleasant  smile  of  the  proud 
motor-proprietor  which  I  had  been  wearing  hardened  upon  my 
face.  I  did  n't  know  as  much  about  motors  as  our  passengers  sup 
posed,  but  I  did  know  what  side-slip  was,  and  I  did  not  think  that 
this  was  a  nice  place  for  the  ladies  to  be  initiated.  There  might 
easily  be  an  accident,  even  with  the  best  of  drivers  such  as  we  had 
in  Terry,  and  I  was  sure  that  he  was  having  all  he  could  do  to 
keep  on  the  crown  of  the  road.  At  any  moment,  slowly  as  we  were 
going,  the  heavily  laden  car  might  become  skittish  and  begin  to 
waltz,  a  feat  which  would  certainly  first  surprise  and  then  alarm 
the  ladies,  even  if  it  had  no  more  serious  consequences. 

It  was  while  we  were  in  this  critical  situation,  which  had  not 
yet  begun  to  dawn  upon  our  passengers,  that  Dalmar-Kalm 
siezed  the  opportunity  of  racing  past  us  from  behind,  blowing  a 
fanfarronade  on  his  horn,  to  prove  how  much  faster  his  car  could 
go  than  ours.  In  the  instant  that  he  was  abreast  of  us,  our  ton- 
neau,  which  overhung  the  back  axle  further  than  is  considered 
wise  in  the  latest  types  of  cars,  swung  outwards,  with  a  slip  of  the 
tyre  in  the  grey  grease,  and  only  by  an  inch  which  seemed  a  mere 
hair's  breadth  was  Terry  able  to  save  us  from  a  collision. 

The  Countess  screamed,  Beechy  clung  once  more  to  my  knee, 
and  we  all  glared  at  the  red  car  with  the  white  canopy  as  it  shot 
ruthlessly  ahead.  The  Prince's  tyres  were  strapped  with  spiked 


72  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

leather  covers,  which  we  could  not  carry  as  they  would  lose  us  too 
much  speed;  therefore  the  danger  of  side-slip  was  lessened  for 
him,  and  he  flew  by  without  even  knowing  how  near  we  had  been 
to  an  accident.  The  anger  painted  on  our  ungoggled  faces  he 
doubtless  attributed  to  jealousy,  as  he  glanced  back  to  wave  a 
triumphant  au  revoir  before  flashing  out  of  sight,  round  a  bend  of 
the  road. 

There  is  something  very  human,  and  particularly  womanish, 
about  a  motor-car.  The  shock  of  the  narrow  escape  we  had  just 
had  seemed  to  have  unsteadied  the  nerve  of  our  brave  Panhard 
for  the  moment.  We  were  nearing  a  skew  bridge,  with  an  almost 
right-angled  approach;  and  the  strange  resultant  of  the  nicely 
balanced  forces  that  control  an  automobile  skating  on  "  pneus  " 
over  slippery  mud  twisted  us  round,  suddenly  and  without  warn 
ing.  Instantly,  oilily,  the  car  gyrated  as  on  a  pivot,  and  behold, 
we  were  facing  down  the  valley  instead  of  up.  Terry  could  not 
had  done  it  had  he  tried. 

"  Oh,  my  goodness ! "  quavered  the  Countess,  in  a  collapse. 
"  Am  I  dreaming,  or  has  this  happened  ?  It  seems  as  if  I  must  be 
out  of  my  wits ! " 

*  -  "It  has  happened,"  answered  Terry,  laughing  reassuringly, 
but  far  from  joyous  within,  I  knew.  "  But  it 's  nothing  alarming. 
A  little  side-slip,  that 's  all." 

"A  little  side-slip!"  she  echoed.  "Then  may  I  be  preserved 
from  a  big  one.  This  automobile  has  turned  its  nose  towards 
home  again,  of  its  own  accord.  Oh,  Sir  Ralph,  I  'm  not  sure  I  like 
motoring  as  much  as  I  thought  I  would.  I  'm  not  sure  the  Hand 
of  Providence  did  n't  turn  the  car  back." 

"Nonsense,  Mamma!"  cried  Beechy.  "The  other  day  the 
Hand  of  Providence  was  pointing  out  Sir  Ralph's  advertisement 
in  the  newspaper.  It  can't  be  always  changing  its  mind,  and  you 
can't,  either.  We  're  all  alive,  anyhow,  and  that's  some 
thing." 

"  Ah,  but  how  long  shall  we  be  ?  "  moaned  her  mother.  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  silly,  but  I  did  n't  know  that  an  automobile  had  the 


A   CHAPTER   OF   ADVENTURES  73 

habits  of  a  kangaroo  and  a  crab,  and  a  base-ball,  and  I  'm  afraid 
I  shall  never  get  used  to  them." 

Terry  explained  that  his  car  was  not  addicted  to  producing 
these  sensational  effects,  and  compared  the  difficulties  it  was  now 
combatting  with  those  which  a  skater  might  experience  if  the 
hard  ice  were  covered  an  inch  deep  with  soft  soap.  "We  shall 
soon  be  out  of  this,"  he  said,  "for  the  road  will  be  better  higher 
up  where  the  hill  begins,  and  the  rain  has  had  a  chance  to  drain 
away." 

Cheered  by  these  promises,  the  poor  Countess  behaved  her 
self  very  well,  though  she  looked  as  if  she  might  burst  an  im 
portant  blood-vessel,  as  Terry  carefully  turned  his  car  on  the 
slippery  surface  of  the  road's  tortoise-back.  I  was  not  happy  my 
self,  for  it  would  have  been  as  "  easy  as  falling  off  a  log  "  for  the 
automobile  to  leap  gracefully  into  the  Roya ;  but  the  brakes  held 
nobly,  and  as  Terry  had  said,  there  was  better  going  round  the 
next  corner. 

Here  the  mountains  began  to  draw  together,  so  that  we  were  no 
longer  travelling  in  a  valley,  but  in  a  gorge.  Deep  shadow  shut  us 
in,  as  if  we  had  left  the  warm,  outer  air  and  entered  a  dim  castle, 
perpetually  shuttered  and  austerely  cold.  Dark  crags  shaped 
themselves  magnificently,  and  the  scene  was  of  such  wild  gran 
deur  that  even  Beechy  ceased  to  be  flippant.  We  drove  on  in  si 
lence,  listening  to  the  battle  song  of  the  river  as  it  fought  its  way 
on  through  the  rocky  chasm  its  own  strength  had  hewn. 

The  road  mounted  continuously,  with  a  gentle  incline,  weav 
ing  its  grey  thread  round  the  blind  face  of  the  mountain,  and  sud 
denly,  turning  a  shoulder  of  rock  we  came  upon  the  Prince's  car 
which  we  had  fancied  many  kilometres  in  advance.  The  big  red 
chariot  was  stationary,  one  wheel  tilted  into  the  ditch  at  the 
roadside,  while  Dalmar-Kalm  and  his  melancholy  chauffeur  were 
straining  to  rescue  it  from  its  ignominious  position. 

Our  Panhard  had  been  going  particularly  well,  as  if  to  justify 
itself  in  its  employers'  eyes  after  its  late  slip  from  rectitude. 
"  She  "  was  taking  the  hill  gaily,  pretending  not  to  know  it  from 


74  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

the  level,  and  it  did  seem  hard  to  play  the  part  of  good  Samari 
tan  to  one  marked  by  nature  as  a  Levite.  But  —  noblesse  oblige, 
and  —  honour  among  chauffeurs. 

Terry  is  as  far  from  sainthood  as  I  am,  and  I  knew  well  that  his 
bosom  yearned  to  let  Dalmar-Kalm  stew  in  his  own  petrol.  Nev 
ertheless,  he  brought  the  car  to  anchor  without  a  second's  hesita 
tion,  drawing  up  alongside  the  humiliated  red  giant.  Amid  the 
exclamations  of  Mrs.  Kidder,  and  the  suppressed  chuckles  of  the 
enfante  terrible,  we  two  men  got  out,  with  beautiful  expressions  on 
our  faces  and  dawning  haloes  round  our  heads,  to  help  our  hated 
rival. 

Did  he  thank  us  for  not  straining  the  quality  of  our  mercy  ?  His 
name  and  nature  would  not  have  been  Dalmar-Kalm  if  he  had. 
His  first  words  at  sight  of  the  two  ministering  angels  by  his  side 
were:  "You  must  have  brought  me  bad  luck,  I  believe.  Never 
have  I  had  an  accident  with  my  car  until  to-day,  but  now  all 
goes  wrong.  For  the  second  time  I  am  en  panne.  It  is  too  much. 
This  viper  of  a  Joseph  says  we  cannot  go  on." 

Now  we  began  to  see  why  the  Prince's  chauffeur  had  acquired 
the  countenance  of  a  male  Niobe.  Wormlike  resignation  to  utter 
misery  was,  we  had  judged,  his  prevailing  characteristic;  but 
hard  work,  ingratitude,  and  goodness  knows  how  much  abuse- 
caused  the  worm  to  turn  and  defend  itself. 

"  How  go  on  with  a  change-speed  lever  broken  short  off,  close 
to  the  quadrant  ?  "  he  shrilled  out  in  French.  "  And  it  is  His  High 
ness  who  broke  it,  changing  speed  too  quickly,  a  thing  which  I 
have  constantly  warned  him  against  in  driving.  I  cannot  make  a 
new  lever  here  in  a  wilderness.  I  am  not  a  magician." 

"Nor  a  Felicite,"  I  mumbled,  convinced  that,  had  my  all- 
accomplished  adjutant  been  a  chauffeur  instead  of  a  cook,  she 
would  have  been  equal  to  beating  up  a  trustworthy  lever  out  of  a 
slice  of  cake. 

"  Be  silent,  brigand ! "  roared  the  Prince,  and  I  could  hardly 
stifle  a  laugh,  for  Joseph  is  no  higher  than  my  ear.  His  shoulders 
slope;  his  legs  are  clothespins  bound  with  leather;  his  eyes  swim 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ADVENTURES  75 

in  tears,  as  our  car's  crankhead  floats  in  an  oil  bath ;  and  his  hair 
is  hung  round  his  head  like  many  separate  rows  of  black  pins, 
overlapping  one  another. 

"  We  shall  save  time  by  getting  your  car  out  of  the  ditch,  any 
how,"  suggested  Terry;  and  putting  our  shoulders  to  it,  all  four, 
we  succeeded  after  strenuous  efforts  in  pushing  and  hauling  the 
huge  beast  onto  the  road.  I  had  had  no  idea  that  anything  less  in 
size  than  a  railway  engine  could  be  so  heavy. 

There  was  no  question  but  that  the  giant  was  helpless.  Terry 
and  Joseph  peered  into  its  inner  workings,  and  the  first  verdict 
was  confirmed.  "  There  's  an  imperfection  in  the  metal,"  said  ex 
pert  Terry.  In  his  place,  I  fear  I  should  not  have  been  capable  of 
such  magnanimity.  I  should  have  let  the  whole  blame  rest  upon 
my  rival's  reckless  stupidity  as  a  driver. 

"  It 's  plain  you  can  do  nothing  with  your  car  in  that  condi 
tion,"  he  went  on.  "  After  all "  (even  Terry's  generous  spirit 
could  n't  resist  this  one  little  dig),  "it  would  have  been  well  if 
I  'd  brought  that  coil  of  rope." 

"  Coil  of  rope  ?  For  what  purpose  ?  " 

"  To  tow  you  to  the  nearest  blacksmith's,  where  perhaps  a  new 
lever  could  be  forged." 

"  This  is  not  a  time  for  joking.  Twelve  horses  cannot  drag 
twenty-four." 

"  They  're  plucky  and  willing.  Shall  they  try  ?  Here  comes  a 
cart,  whose  driver  is  wreathed  in  smiles.  Labour  exulting  in  the 
downfall  of  Capitol.  But  Labour  looks  good-natured.  "  Good 
morning,"  Terry  hailed  him  in  Italian.  "  Will  you  lend  me  a 
stout  cord  to  tow  this  automobile  ?  " 

The  Prince  was  silent.  Even  in  his  rage  against  Fate,  against 
Joseph,  and  against  us,  he  retained  enough  common  sense  to  re 
member  that  'tis  well  to  choose  the  lesser  of  two  evils. 

The  carter  had  a  rope,  and  an  obliging  disposition.  A  few 
francs  changed  hands,  and  the  Hare  was  yoked  to  the  Tortoise. 
Yoked,  figuratively  speaking  only,  for  it  trailed  ignominiously 
behind  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  yards,  and  when  our  little  Panhard 


76  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

began  bumbling  up  the  hill  with  its  great  follower,  it  resembled 
nothing  so  much  as  a  very  small  comet  with  a  disproportionately 
big  tail. 

The  motor,  in  starting,  forged  gallantly  ahead  for  a  yard  or 
two,  then,  as  it  felt  the  unexpected  weight  dragging  behind,  it  ap 
peared  surprised.  It  was,  indeed,  literally  "taken  aback"  for  an 
instant,  but  only  for  an  instant.  The  brave  little  beast  seemed  to 
say  to  itself,  "  Well,  they  expect  a  good  deal  of  me,  but  there  are 
ladies  on  board,  and  I  wron't  disappoint  them." 

"Felicite,"  I  murmured.  "She  might  have  stood  sponser  to 
this  car." 

With  another  tug  we  began  to  make  progress,  slow  but 
steady.  Joseph,  as  the  lighter  weight,  sat  in  his  master's  car,  his 
hand  on  the  steering-wheel,  while  the  Prince  tramped  gloomily 
behind  in  the  mud.  Seeing  how  well  the  experiment  was  succeed 
ing,  however,  he  quickened  his  pace  and  ordered  the  chauffeur 
down.  "  I  do  not  think  that  the  difference  in  weight  will  be  no 
ticeable,"  he  said,  and  as  Joseph  obediently  jumped  out  the 
Prince  sprang  in,  taking  the  wheel.  Instantly  the  rope  snapped, 
and  the  big  red  chariot  would  have  run  back  had  not  Joseph 
jammed  on  the  brake. 

Terry  stopped  our  car,  and  the  ill-matched  pair  had  to  be 
united  again,  with  a  shorter  rope.  "  Afraid  you  '11  have  to  walk, 
Prince,"  said  he,  when  he  had  finished  helping  Joseph,  who  was 
apparently  on  the  brink  of  tears. 

Dalmar-Kalm  measured  me  with  a  glance.  "Perhaps  Sir 
Ralph  would  not  object  to  steering  my  car?"  he  suggested. 
"Then  Joseph  could  walk,  and  I  could  have  Sir  Ralph's 
place  in  the  tonneau  with  the  ladies,  where  a  little  extra  weight 
would  do  no  harm.  Would  that  not  be  an  excellent  arrange 
ment?" 

"  David  left  Goliath  on  the  ground,  and  dragged  away  only  his 
head,"  I  remarked.  "We  are  dragging  Goliath;  and  I  fear  his 
head  would  be  the  last  —  er  —  feather.  So  sorry.  Otherwise  we 
should  be  delighted." 


A  CHAPTER   OF  ADVENTURES  77 

What  the  Prince  said  as  the  procession  began  to  move  slowly 
up-hill  again,  at  a  pace  to  keep  time  with  the  "  Dead  March  in 
Saul,"  I  don't  pretend  to  know,  but  if  his  remarks  matched 
his  expression,  I  would  not  in  any  case  have  recorded  them 
here. 


VI 

A  CHAPTER  OF  PREDICAMENTS 

ON  we  went,  and  twilight  was  falling  in  this  deep  gorge, 
so  evidently  cut  by  the  river  for  its  own  convenience, 
not  for  that  of  belated  tourists.  Here  and  there  in  the 
valley  little  rock  towns  stood  up  impressively,  round 
and  high  on  their  eminences,  like  brown,  stemless  mushrooms. 
Each  little  group  of  ancient  dwellings  resembled  to  my  mind  a 
determined  band  of  men  standing  back  to  back,  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  defending  their  hearths  and  homes  from  the  Saracens, 
and  saying  grimly,  "  Come  on  if  you  dare.  We  '11  fight  to  the 
death,  one  and  all  of  us." 

At  last,  without  further  mishap,  we  arrived  at  a  mean  village 
marked  Airole  on  Terry's  map.  It  was  a  poverty-stricken  place, 
through  which,  in  happier  circumstances,  we  should  have  passed 
without  a  glance,  but  —  there,  by  the  roadside  was  a  black 
smith's  forge,  more  welcome  to  our  eyes  than  a  castle  double- 
starred  by  Baedeker. 

Joseph's  spleen  reduced  by  the  sight  of  his  master  tramping  in 
the  mud  while  he  steered,  the  little  chauffeur  looked  almost  cheer 
ful.  He  promised  to  have  a  new  lever  ready  in  half  an  hour,  and 
so  confident  was  he  that  he  urged  us  to  go  on.  But  the  Prince  did 
not  echo  the  suggestion,  and  Mrs.  Kidder  proposed  that  we 
should  have  tea  while  we  waited. 

Though  it  was  she  who  gave  birth  to  the  idea,  it  would  have 
been  Miss  Destrey  who  did  all  the  work,  had  not  Terry  and  I 
offered  such  help  as  men  can  give.  He  went  in  search  of  water  to 
fill  the  shining  kettle;  I  handed  round  biscuits  and  cakes,  while 

78 


A   CHAPTER  OF  PREDICAMENTS  79 

the  Prince  looked  on  in  the  attitude  of  Napoleon  watching  the 
burning  of  Moscow 

We  were  as  good  as  a  circus  to  the  inhabitants  of  Airole ;  nay, 
better,  for  our  antics  could  be  seen  gratis.  The  entire  population 
of  the  village,  and  apparently  of  several  adjacent  villages,  col 
lected  round  the  two  cars.  They  made  the  ring,  and  —  we  did  the 
rest.  We  ate,  we  drank,  and  they  were  merry  at  our  expense.  The 
children  wished  also  to  eat  at  our  expense,  and  when  I  translated 
(with  amendments)  a  flattering  comment  on  Mrs.  Kidder's  hair 
and  complexion  offered  by  an  incipient  Don  Juan  of  five  years, 
she  insisted  that  all  the  spare  pastry  should  be  distributed  among 
the  juveniles.  The  division  led  to  blows,  and  tears  which  had  to 
be  quenched  with  coppers ;  while  into  the  melee  broke  a  desolate 
cry  from  Joseph,  announcing  that  his  lever  was  a  failure.  The 
Prince  strode  off  to  the  blacksmith's  shop,  forgetful  that  he  held  a 
teacup  in  one  hand  and  an  eclair  in  the  other.  With  custard  drop 
ping  onto  the  red-hot  bar  which  Joseph  hammered,  he  looked  so 
forlorn  a  figure  that  Terry  was  moved  to  pity  and  joined  the 
group  at  the  forge.  He  soon  discovered  what  Joseph  might  have 
known  from  the  first,  had  he  not  lived  solely  in  the  moment,  like 
most  other  chauffeurs.  The  village  forge  was  not  assez  bien 
outillee  for  a  finished  lever  to  be  produced ;  the  Prince's  car  must 
remain  a  derelict,  unless  we  towed  it  into  port. 

We  started  on  again,  in  the  same  order  as  before  and  at  the 
same  pace,  followed  by  all  our  village  proteges,  who  commented 
frankly  upon  the  plight  of  the  Prince,  and  the  personal  appear 
ance  of  the  whole  party.  At  length,  however,  our  moving  audience 
dwindled.  A  mile  or  two  beyond  Airole  the  last,  most  enterprising 
boy  deserted  us,  and  we  thought  ourselves  alone  in  a  twilight 
world.  The  white  face  of  the  moon  peered  through  a  cleft  in  the 
mountain,  and  our  own  shadows  crawled  after  us,  large  and  dark 
on  the  grey  ribbon  of  the  road.  But  there  was  another  shadow 
which  moved,  a  small  drifting  shadow  over  which  we  had  no 
control.  Sometimes  it  was  by  our  side  for  an  instant  as  we  crept 
up  the  hill,  dragging  our  incubus,  then  it  would  fall  behind  and 


80  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

vanish,  only  to  reappear  again,  perhaps  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road. 

"  What  is  that  tiny  black  thing  that  comes  and  goes  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Kidder. 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Miss  Destrey,  "  I  do  believe  it 's  that  for 
lorn  little  dog  that  was  too  timid  to  eat  from  my  hand  in  the  vil 
lage.  He  must  have  followed  all  this  time." 

"  Do  see  if  it  is  the  same  dog,  Prince,"  Beechy  cried  to  the  tall, 
dark  figure  completing  the  tail  of  our  procession. 

A  yelp  answered.  "  Yes,  it  is  he,"  called  the  Prince.  "  A  mangy 
little  mongrel.  I  do  not  think  he  will  trouble  us  any  longer." 

Then  a  surprising  thing  happened.  The  Vestal  Virgin  rose 
suddenly  in  the  car.  "  You  have  kicked  him ! "  she  exclaimed,  the 
gentleness  burnt  out  of  her  pretty  voice  by  a  swift  flame  of  anger. 
"  Stop  the  car,  Mr.  Barrymore  —  quickly,  please.  I  want  to  get 
down." 

Never  had  that  Panhard  of  Terry's  checked  its  career  in  less 
space.  Out  jumped  Maida,  to  my  astonishment  without  a  word 
of  objection  from  her  relatives.  "  I  will  not  have  that  poor,  timid 
little  creature  frightened  and  hurt,"  I  heard  her  protesting  as  she 
ran  back.  "How  could  you,  Prince!" 

Now,  though  the  girl  was  probably  no  more  than  a  paid  com 
panion,  she  was  lovely  enough  to  make  her  good  opinion  of  im 
portance  to  the  most  inveterate  fortune  hunter,  and  as  Miss  Des 
trey  called,  "Here,  doggie,  doggie,"  in  a  voice  to  beguile  a 
rhinoceros,  Dalmar-Kalm  pleaded  that  what  he  had  done  had 
been  but  for  the  animal's  good.  He  had  not  injured  the  dog,  he 
had  merely  encouraged  it  to  run  home  before  it  was  hopelessly 
lost.  "  I  am  not  cruel,  I  assure  you.  My  worst  troubles  have  come 
from  a  warm  heart.  I  hope  you  will  believe  me,  Miss  Destrey." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  your  dog,  or  —  your  chauffeur,"  she 
answered.  "  He  won't  come  back  to  be  comforted,  so  I  suppose 
after  all  we  shall  have  to  go  on.  But  I  shall  dream  of  that  poor  lit 
tle  lonely,  drifting  thing  to-night." 

Hardly  had  she  taken  her  seat,  however,  than  there  was  the 


A   CHAPTER   OF  PREDICAMENTS  81 

dog  close  to  the  car,  timid,  obsequious,  winning,  with  his  wisp  of 
a  head  cocked  on  one  side.  We  drove  on,  and  he  followed  perti 
naciously.  Mildly  adjured  by  the  Countess  to  "go  home,  little 
dog,"  he  came  on  the  faster.  Many  adventures  he  had,  such  as  a 
fall  over  a  heap  of  stones  and  entanglement  in  a  thorn-bush.  But 
nothing  discouraged  the  miniature  motor  maniac  in  the  pursuit 
of  his  love,  and  we  began  to  take  him  for  granted  so  completely 
that  after  a  while  I,  at  least,  forgot  him.  On  we  toiled  with  our 
burden,  the  moon  showering  silver  into  the  dark  mountain  gorges, 
as  if  it  were  raining  stars. 

The  further  we  burrowed  into  the  fastnesses  of  the  Roya,  the 
more  wild  in  its  majestic  beauty  grew  the  valley,  so  famed  in  his 
tory  and  legend.  The  gorge  had  again  become  a  mere  gash  in  the 
rock,  with  ro'om  only  for  the  road  and  the  roaring  river  below. 
High  overhead,  standing  up  against  the  sky  like  a  warning  finger, 
towered  the  ancient  stronghold  of  Piena,  once  guardian  fortress 
of  the  valley;  where  the  way  curved,  and  crossed  a  high  bridge 
spanning  the  torrent,  we  passed  a  tablet  of  gleaming  bronze  set 
against  the  rock  wall,  in  commemoration  of  Massena's  victory  in 
an  early  campaign  of  Napoleon's  against  Italy.  Sometimes  we 
rushed  through  tunnels,  where  the  noise  of  the  motor  vibrated 
thunderously;  sometimes  we  looked  down  over  sublime  preci 
pices  ;  but  the  road  was  always  good  now,  and  we  had  no  longer 
to  fear  side-slip. 

We  met  no  one;  nevertheless  Terry  got  down  and  lit  our  lamps, 
Dalmar-Kalm  making  an  unnecessary  delay  by  insisting  that 
Joseph  should  light  his  too.  This  was  sheer  vanity  on  the 
Prince's  part.  He  could  not  bear  to  have  his  great  Bleriots  dark, 
while  our  humbler  acetylene  illumined  the  way  for  His  Mighti 
ness. 

Suddenly  we  ran  out  of  the  bewildering  lights  and  shadows, 
woven  across  our  way  by  the  moon,  into  the  lights  of  a  town ;  and 
two  douaniers  appeared  in  the  road,  holding  up  their  hands  for  us 
to  stop.  Down  jumped  Terry  to  see  why  he  should  be  challenged 
in  this  unexpected  place,  and  the  Prince  joined  him. 


$2  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  Your  papers,  if  you  please,"  demanded  the  official. 

Terry  produced  those  which  had  been  given  us  at  the  custom 
house  in  Grimaldi. 

"  But  these  are  Italian  papers.  Where  are  those  for  France  ?  " 
Basked  the  douanier. 

"This  is  not  France,"  said  the  Prince,  before  Terry  could 
speak. 

"  It  is  Breil,  and  it  is  France,"  returned  the  man.  "  France  for 
nine  kilometres,  until  Fontan,  where  Italian  territory  begins 
again." 

Terry  laughed,  rather  ruefully.  "Well,"  said  he,  "I  have  no 
French  papers,  but  we  paid  a  penny  at  the  Pont  St.  Louis  to 
leave  France.  This  car  is  French,  and  we  ought  not  to  pay  any 
thing  to  enter;  nevertheless,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  hand  you  the 
same  sum  for  the  privilege  of  coming  in  again." 

"  Ah,  you  paid  ten  centimes  ?  Then,  if  you  have  the  receipt  it 
may  be  possible  to  permit  you  to  go  on." 

"Permit  us  to  go  on!"  echoed  Dalmar-Kalm  angrily.  "I 
should  think  so,  indeed." 

"I  'm  sorry,  I  took  no  receipt,"  said  Terry.  "I  thought  it  an 
unnecessary  formality." 

"  No  formality  is  unnecessary,  monsieur,"  said  the  servant  of 
form.  "  I  also  am  sorry,  but  in  the  circumstances  you  cannot  en 
ter  French  territory  without  a  receipt  for  the  ten  centimes. 
As  a  man  I  believe  implicitly  that  you  paid  the  sum,  as  an 
official  I  am  compelled  to  doubt  your  word." 

Who  but  a  Frenchman  could  have  been  so  exquisitely  pompous 
over  a  penny  ?  I  saw  by  Terry's  face  that  he  was  far  from  consid 
ering  the  incident  closed ;  but  he  had  too  much  true  Irish  tact  to 
try  and  get  us  through  by  storming. 

"Let  us  consider,"  he  began,  "whether  there  is  not  some 
means  of  escape  from  this  difficulty." 

But  Dalmar-Kalm  was  in  no  mood  to  temporize,  or  keep  silent 
while  others  temporized.  The  lights  of  Breil  showed  that  it  was  a 
town  of  comparative  importance;  it  was  past  eight  o'clock;  and 


A   CHAPTER   OF   PREDICAMENTS  83 

no  doubt  His  Highness's  temper  was  sharpened  by  a  keen  edge  of 
hunger.  That  he  —  he  should  be  stopped  by  a  fussy  official  fig 
ure-head  almost  within  smell  of  food,  broke  down  the  barrier  of 
his  self-restraint  —  never  a  formidable  rampart,  as  we  had  cause 
to  know.  In  a  few  loud  and  vigorous  sentences  he  expressed  a 
withering  contempt  for  France,  its  institutions,  its  customs,  and 
especially  its  custom-houses. 

"  If  you  'd  mix  up  the  Prince's  initials,  as  you  do  Mr.  Barry- 
more's  sometimes,  and  call  him  Kalmar-Dalm,  there  'd  be  some 
excuse  for  it,"  Beechy  Kidder  murmured  to  the  Countess. 

"  Hush,  he  '11  hear ! "  implored  the  much-enduring  lady,  but 
there  was  small  danger  that  His  Highness  would  hear  any  expos 
tulations  save  his  own. 

The  functionary's  eye  grew  dark,  and  Terry  frowned.  Had  the 
douanier  been  insolent,  my  peppery  Irishman  would  have  been 
insolent  too,  perhaps,  in  the  hope  of  cowering  the  man  by  trucu- 
lence  more  swashbuckling  than  his  own;  but  he  had  been  as 
polite  as  his  countrymen  proverbially  are,  if  not  goaded  out  of 
their  suavity.  "  Look  here,  Prince,"  said  Terry,  hanging  onto  his 
temper  by  a  thread  (for  he  also  was  hungry),  "  suppose  you  leave 
this  matter  to  me.  If  you  '11  take  the  ladies  to  the  best  hotel  in 
town,  Moray  and  I  will  stop  and  see  this  thing  through.  We  '11 
follow  when  we  can." 

Dalmar-Kalm  snapped  at  the  suggestion ;  our  passengers  saw 
that  it  was  for  the  best,  and  yielded.  As  they  moved  away,  a 
shadowy  form  hovered  in  their  wake.  It  was  the  little  black  dog 
of  Airole. 

The  Marquis  of  Innisfallen's  first  quarrel  with  his  brother  had 
been  caused  by  Terry's  youthful  preference  for  an  army  instead 
of  a  diplomatic  career.  Now,  could  his  cantankerous  relative  have 
seen  my  friend,  he  would  once  more  have  shaken  his  head  over 
talents  wasted.  The  oily  eloquence  which  Terry  lavished  on  that 
comparatively  insignificant  French  douanier  ought  to  have 
earned  him  a  billet  as  first  secretary  to  a  Legation.  He  pictured 
the  despair  of  the  ladies  if  the  power  of  France  kept  them  prison- 


84  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

ers  at  the  frontier;  he  referred  warmly  to  that  country's  reputa 
tion  for  chivalry;  he  offered  to  pay  the  usual  deposit  on  a  car  en 
tering  France  and  receive  it  back  again  at  Fontan.  To  this  last 
suggestion  the  harassed  official  replied  that  technically  his 
office  was  closed  for  the  night,  and  that  after  eight  o'clock  he 
could  not  receive  money  or  issue  papers.  Finally,  therefore,  Terry 
was  reduced  to  appealing  to  the  cleverness  and  resource  of  a  true 
Frenchman. 

It  was  a  neat  little  fencing-match,  which  ended  in  the  triumph 
of  Great  Britain.  The  functionary,  treated  like  a  gentleman  by  a 
gentleman,  became  anxious  to  accommodate,  if  he  could  do  so 
"consistently  with  honour."  He  had  an  inspiration,  and  suggest 
ed  that  he  would  strain  his  duty  by  sending  a  messenger  with  us 
to  Fontan,  there  to  explain  that  we  were  merely  en  passage.  Out 
of  the  crowd  which  had  collected  a  loutish  youth  was  chosen;  a 
pourboire  promised  ;  and  after  many  mutual  politenesses  we 
were  permitted  to  teuf-teuf  onto  the  sacred  soil  of  France. 

It  is  no  more  safe  to  judge  a  French  country  inn  by  its  exterior, 
than  the  soul  of  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  by  his  nose.  The  inn  of  Breil 
had  not  an  engaging  face,  but  it  was  animated  by  the  spirit  of  a 
Brillat  Savarin,  by  which  we  were  provided  with  a  wonderful 
dinner  in  numerous  courses.  We  could  not  escape  from  it,  lest  we 
hurt  the  amour-propre  of  the  cook,  and  it  was  late  when  we  were 
ready  for  our  last  sortie. 

"You  will  never  reach  San  Dalmazzo  to-night,  towing  that 
car,"  we  were  informed  by  the  powers  that  were  in  the  hotel. 
"The  hills  you  have  passed  are  as  nothing  to  the  hills  yet  to 
come.  You  will  do  well  to  spend  the  night  with  us,  for  if  you  try  to 
get  on,  you  will  be  all  night  upon  the  road." 

Our  passengers  were  asked  to  decide,  and  we  expected  a  dif 
ference  of  opinion.  We  should  have  said  that  the  two  girls  would 
have  been  for  pushing  on,  and  the  Countess  for  stopping.  But 
that  plump  lady  had  already  conquered  the  tremors  which,  ear 
lier  in  the  day,  had  threatened  to  wreck  our  expedition  at  its 
outset. 


A  CHAPTER   OF   PREDICAMENTS  85 

"  It 's  a  funny  thing,"  said  she,  "  but  I  want  to  go  on,  just  on, 
for  the  sake  of  going.  I  never  felt  like  that  before,  travelling,  not 
even  in  a  Mann  Boudoir  car  at  home,  which  I  guess  is  the  most 
luxurious  thing  on  wheels.  I  always  wanted  to  get  there,  wherever 
'  there '  was ;  but  now  I  want  to  go  on  and  on  —  I  would  n't  care  if 
it  was  to  the  end  of  the  world,  and  I  can't  think  why,  unless  it 's 
the  novelty  of  automobiling.  But  it  can't  be  that,  either,  I  sup 
pose,  for  only  a  little  while  ago  I  was  thinking  that  bed-ridden 
people  were  n't  badly  off,  they  were  so  safe." 

We  all  laughed  at  this  (even  the  Prince,  whom  plenty  of  cham 
pagne  had  put  into  a  sentimental  mood),  and  I  suddenly  found 
myself  growing  quite  fond  of  the  Countess,  crowns  and  all. 

After  the  heat  of  the  salle  a  manger,  the  night  out  of  doors  ap 
peared  strangely  white  and  cold,  its  purple  depths  drenched 
with  moonlight,  the  high  remoteness  of  its  dome  faintly  scintil- 
lant  with  icy  points  of  stars.  An  adventure  seemed  to  lie  before  us. 
We  turned  wistfully  to  each  other  for  the  warmth  of  human  com 
panionship,  and  had  not  the  Prince  been  trying  to  flirt  with  little 
Beechy  unseen  by  Mamma,  I  should  have  felt  kindly  even  to  him. 
Even  as  it  was,  I  consented  to  let  him  try  sitting  in  his  own  car, 
and  the  rope,  inured  to  suffering,  had  the  consideration  not  to 
break. 

We  forged  on,  up,  up  the  higher  reaches  of  the  Roya  valley,  so 
glorious  in  full  moonlight  that  it  struck  us  into  silence.  The 
mountains  towering  round  us  shaped  themselves  into  castles  and 
cathedrals  of  carved  marble,  their  f a9ades,  grey  by  day,  glittering 
white  and  polished  under  the  magic  of  the  moon.  The  wonder 
ful  crescent  town  of  Saorge,  hanging  on  the  mountain-side, 
would  alone  have  been  worth  coming  this  way  to  see  if 
there  had  been  nothing  else.  Veiled  by  the  mystery  of  night,  the 
old  Ligurian  stronghold  appeared  to  be  suspended  between  two 
rocky  peaks,  like  a  great  white  hammock  for  a  sleeping  goddess, 
and  now  and  then  we  caught  a  jewelled  sparkle  from  her 
rings. 

They  had  not  told  an  idle  tale  at  the  inn.  The  road,  weary  of 


86  MY  FRIEND   THE  CHAUFFEUR 

going  uphill  on  its  knees,  like  a  pilgrim,  got  suddenly  upon  its 
feet  and  we  were  on  its  back,  with  the  Prince's  chariot  trailing 
after  us.  Nevertheless,  our  car  did  not  falter,  though  the  motor 
panted.  Scarcely  ever  were  we  able  to  pass  from  the  first  speed  to 
the  second,  but  then  (as  Beechy  remarked),  considering  all 
things,  we  ought  to  be  thankful  for  any  speed  above  that  of  a 
snail. 

At  Fontan  —  when  he  had  vouched  for  us  —  we  dismissed  our 
oa/,  with  a  light  heart  and  a  heavy  pocket.  Again,  we  were  in  It 
aly,  a  silent,  sleeping  Italy,  drugged  with  moonlight,  and  dream 
ing  troubled  dreams  of  strangely  contorted  mountains.  Then 
suddenly  it  waked,  for  the  moon  was  sinking,  and  the  charm  had 
lost  its  potence.  The  dream-shapes  vanished,  and  we  were  in  a 
wide,  dark  basin,  which  might  be  green  as  emerald  by  day.  A 
grey  ghost  in  a  long  coat,  with  a  rifle  slung  across  his  back,  flitted 
into  the  road  and  startled  the  Countess  by  signing  for  us  to  stop. 

"Oh,  mercy!  are  we  going  to  be  held  up?"  she  whispered. 
*'I  'd  forgotten  about  the  brigands." 

"  Only  an  Italian  custom-house  brigand,"  said  Terry.  "  We  've 
got  to  San  Dalmazzo  after  all,  and  it  isji't  morning  yet." 

"  Yes,  but  it  is ! "  cried  Beechy.  "  There  's  a  clock  striking 
twelve." 

A  few  minutes  later  we  were  driving  along  a  level  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  monastery-hotel,  which  was  said  to  be  no  more  than  a 
hundred  metres  beyond  the  village.  I  had  often  heard  of  this  hos 
telry  at  the  little  mountain  retreat  of  San  Dalmazzo,  loved  and 
sought  by  Italians  in  the  summer  heat.  The  arched  gateway  in 
the  wall  was  clearly  monastic,  and  we  felt  sure  that  we  had  come 
to  the  right  place,  when  Terry  steered  the  car  through  the  open 
portal  and  a  kind  of  tunnel  on  the  other  side. 

Before  the  door  of  a  long,  low  building  he  stopped  the  motor. 
Its  "thrum,  thrum"  stilled,  the  silence  of  the  place  was  pro 
found,  and  not  a  light  gleamed  anywhere. 

Terry  got  down  and  rang.  We  all  waited  anxiously,  for  much  as 
we  had  enjoyed  the  strange  night  drive,  the  day  had  been  long, 


A   CHAPTER   OF  PREDICAMENTS  87 

and  the  chill  of  the  keen  mountain  air  was  in  our  blood.  But 
nothing  happened,  and  after  a  short  pause  Terry  rang  again. 
Silence  was  the  only  answer,  and  it  seemed  to  give  denial  rather 
than  consent. 

Four  times  he  rang,  and  by  this  time  the  Prince  and  I  were  at 
his  back,  striving  to  pierce  the  darkness  behind  the  door  which 
was  half  of  glass.  At  last  a  greenish  light  gleamed  dim  as  a  glow 
worm  in  the  distance,  and  framed  in  it  a  figure  was  visible  —  the 
figure  of  a  monk. 

For  an  instant  I  was  half  inclined  to  believe  him  a  ghost, 
haunting  the  scene  of  past  activities,  for  one  does  not  expect  to 
have  the  door  of  an  hotel  opened  by  a  monk.  But  ghosts  have  no 
traffic  with  keys  and  bolts;  and  it  was  the  voice  of  a  man  still 
bound  to  flesh  and  blood  who  greeted  us  with  a  mild  "  Buona 
sera  "  which  made  the  night  seem  young. 

Terry  responded  and  announced  in  his  best  Italian  that  we 
desired  accommodation  for  the  night. 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  exclaimed  the  monk.  "  You  thought  that  this  was 
still  a  hotel  ?  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  but  it  ceased  to  be  such 
only  to-day.  The  house  is  now  once  more  what  it  was  originally— 
a  monastery.  It  has  been  bought  by  the  Order  to  which  I  belong." 

"  Is  n't  he  going  to  take  us  in  ?  "  asked  the  Countess,  dolefully. 

"I  'm  afraid  not,"  said  Terry,  "but  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do." 

Ah,  that  "  seeing  what  he  could  do ! "  I  knew  it  of  old,  for  Ter 
ry's  own  brother  is  the  only  person  I  ever  met  who  could  resist 
him  if  he  stooped  to  wheedle.  Italian  is  a  language  which  lends 
itself  to  wheedling,  too;  and  though  the  good  monk  demurred 
at  first,  shook  his  head,  and  even  flung  up  his  hands  with  a  de 
spairing  protest,  he  weakened  at  last,  even  as  the  douanier  had 
weakened. 

"  He  says  if  we  'd  come  to-morrow,  it  would  have  been  impos 
sible  to  admit  us,"  translated  Terry  for  the  ladies'  benefit.  "  The 
lease  is  going  to  be  signed  then.  Until  that 's  done  the  house 
is  n't  actually  a  monastery,  so  he  can  strain  a  point  and  take  us 
in,  rather  than  the  ladies  should  have  to  travel  further  so  late  at 


88  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

night.  I  don't  suppose  we  shall  find  very  luxurious  accommoda 
tion,  but  —  " 

"  It  will  be  perfectly  lovely,"  broke  in  Beechy,  "  and  Maida, 
anyhow,  will  feel  quite  at  home." 

"  He  won't  accept  payment,  that 's  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Terry, 
"  for  we  shall  make  the  poor  man,  who  is  all  alone,  a  good  deal  of 
bother.  Still,  I  shall  offer  something  for  the  charities  of  his  Order, 
and  he  can't  refuse  that." 

We  filed  into  the  hall,  lit  only  by  the  lantern  in  our  host's  hand, 
and  "Kid,  Kidder,  and  Kiddest,"  charmed  with  the  adventure, 
were  delightfully  ready  to  be  pleased  with  everything.  We  seemed 
to  have  walked  nearly  half  a  kilometre  before  we  were  shown  into 
small,  bare  rooms,  furnished  only  with  necessaries,  but  spotlessly 
clean.  Then  beds  had  to  be  made  and  water  brought.  Every  one 
worked  except  the  Prince,  and  every  one,  with  the  same  excep 
tion,  forgot  to  be  tired  and  ceased  to  be  cold  in  the  pleasure  of 
the  queer  midnight  picnic.  We  had  not  dared  hope  for  anything 
to  eat,  but  when  our  host  proposed  a  meal  of  boiled  eggs,  bread, 
and  wine,  the  good  man  was  well-nigh  startled  by  the  enthusiastic 
acceptance  of  his  guests. 

A  small  room  containing  a  table,  and  a  pile  of  chairs  against 
the  wall,  was  chosen  for  the  banquet.  Terry  and  Maida  laid  the 
table  with  the  dishes  from  the  tea-basket,  and  a  few  more  found 
in  neighbouring  cupboards.  Beechy  boiled  the  eggs  while  our 
host  unearthed  the  wine ;  the  Countess  cut  slices  of  hard,  brown 
bread,  and  I  added  butter  in  little  hillocks. 

Then  we  ate  and  drank;  and  never  was  a  meal  so  good.  We 
seemed  to  have  known  each  other  a  long  time,  and  already  we 
had  common  jokes  connected  with  our  past — that  past  which 
had  been  the  present  this  morning.  It  was  after  one  o'clock  when 
it  occurred  to  us  that  it  was  bedtime;  and  as  at  last  the  three 
ladies  flitted  away  down  the  dim  corridor,  Terry  and  I,  watching 
them,  saw  that  something  flitted  after. 

It  was  the  little  black  dog  of  Airole. 


PART  II 
TOLD  BY  BEECHY  KIDDER 

VII 

A  CHAPTER  OF  CHILDISHNESS 

"IT  "IT  TTHEN  I  waked  up  that  morning  in  the  old  monastery 
%  /%  /  at  San  Dalmazzo,  if  that 's  the  way  to  call  it,  and 

^r  W  especially  to  spell  it,  I  really  thought  for  a  few 
minutes  that  I  must  be  dreaming.  "  There  's  no 
good  getting  up,"  I  thought,  "for  if  I  do  I  shall  somnambulize, 
and  maybe  break  my  rather  pleasing  nose."  Once,  when  I  was 
a  little  girl,  I  fell  downstairs  when  I  was  asleep,  and  made  one 
of  my  front  teeth  come  out.  It  was  a  front  tooth,  and  Mamma 
had  promised  me  five  dollars  if  I  'd  have  it  pulled;  so  that  was 
money  in  my  pocket.  But  I  have  n't  got  any  teeth  to  sell  for  five 
dollars  now,  and  it's  well  to  be  careful.  Accordingly  I  just  lay 
still  in  that  funny  little  iron  bed,  saying,  "Beechy  Kidder,  is 
this  you  ?  " 

Perhaps  it  was  because  of  all  those  bewildering  impressions 
the  day  before,  or  perhaps  it  was  from  having  been  so  dead 
asleep  that  I  felt  exactly  as  if  I  were  no  relation  to  myself.  Any 
how,  that  was  the  way  I  did  feel,  and  I  began  to  be  awfully  afraid 
I  should  wake  up  back  in  Denver  months  ago,  before  anything 
had  happened,  or  seemed  likely  ever  to  happen. 

When  I  thought  of  Mamma  and  myself,  as  we  used  to  be,  I 
grew  almost  sure  that  the  things  had  n't  happened,  because  they 
did  n't  seem  the  kind  of  things  that  could  possibly  happen 
to  us. 

Why,  I  did  n't  even  need  to  shut  my  eyes  to  see  our  Denver 
house,  for  it  was  so  much  more  real  than  any  other  house  I  'd 
been  in,  or  dreamed  I  'd  been  in  since,  and  especially  more  real 

89 


90  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

than  that  tiny,  whitewashed  room  at  the  monastery  with  a  green 
curtain  of  vines  hanging  over  the  window. 

A  square,  stone  house,  with  a  piazza  in  front  (only  people  out 
of  America  are  so  stupid,  they  don't  know  what  I  mean  when  I 
say  "piazza") ;  about  six  feet  of  yard  with  some  grass  and  flowers. 
Me  at  school ;  Mamma  reading  novels  with  one  eye,  and  darning 
papa's  stockings  with  the  other.  My  goodness,  what  a  different 
Mamma !  When  I  thought  of  the  difference,  I  was  surer  than  ever 
that  I  must  be  dreaming  her  as  she  is  now,  and  I  had  half  a  mind 
to  go  and  peek  into  the  next  room  to  look,  and  risk  falling  down 
stairs  bang  into  realities  and  Denver. 

Would  she  have  smooth,  straight  dark  hair  with  a  few  threads 
of  grey,  all  streaked  back  flat  to  her  head  to  please  papa;  or 
would  she  have  lovely  auburn  waves  done  on  a  frame,  with  a  curl 
draped  over  her  forehead  ?  Would  her  complexion  be  just  as  nice, 
comfortable,  motherly  sort  of  complexion,  of  no  particular  col 
our;  or  would  it  be  pink  and  white  like  rose-leaves  floating  in 
cream  ?  Would  she  have  the  kind  of  figure  to  fit  the  corsets  you 
can  pick  up  at  any  shop,  ready  made  for  fifty-nine  and  a  half 
cents,  and  the  dresses  Miss  Pettingill  makes  for  ten  dollars,  with 
the  front  breadth  shorter  than  the  back  ?  Or  would  she  go  in  at 
the  waist  like  an  hour-glass  and  out  like  an  hour-glass,  to  fit 
three  hundred-franc  stays  in  Paris,  and  dresses  that  would  be 
tight  for  me  ? 

Poor  Mamma !  I  'd  made  lots  of  fun  of  her  these  last  few 
months,  if  they  were  real  months,  I  said  to  myself;  and  if  more 
real  months  of  that  kind  should  come,  I  'd  probably  make  lots  of 
fun  of  her  again.  I  am  like  that;  I  can't  help  it.  I  suppose  it 's 
what  Papa  used  to  call  his  "  originality,"  and  Mamma  his  "  can- 
tankerousness,"  coming  out  in  me.  But  lying  there  in  the  narrow 
bed,  with  the  dream-dawn  fluttering  little  pale  wings  at  the  win 
dow,  I  seemed  suddenly  to  understand  how  hard  everything  had 
been  for  her. 

At  some  minutes,  on  some  days,  you  do  understand  people 
with  a  queer  kind  of  clearness,  almost  as  if  you  had  created  them 


A   CHAPTER  OF   CHILDISHNESS  91 

yourself  —  even  people  that  you  turn  up  your  nose  at,  and  think 
silly  or  uninteresting  at  other  times,  when  your  senses  are  n't 
sharpened  in  that  magic  sort  of  way.  My  "  God-days,"  are  what  I 
call  those  strange  days  when  I  can  sympathize  with  every  one  as  if 
I  'd  known  their  whole  history  and  all  their  troubles  and  thoughts 
and  struggles,  ever  since  they  were  born.  I  call  them  that,  not  to 
be  irreverent,  but  because  I  suppose  God  always  feels  so ;  and  the 
little  spark  of  Him  that 's  in  every  human  being  —  even  in  a 
naughty,  pert  thing  like  me  —  comes  out  in  us  more  on  some 
days  than  on  others,  though  only  for  a  few  minutes  at  a  stretch 
even  then. 

Well,  my  spark  burned  up  quite  brightly  for  a  little  while  in 
the  dawn,  as  I  was  thinking  of  Mamma. 

I  don't  suppose  she  could  ever  have  been  in  love  with  Papa.  I 
guess  she  must  have  married  him  because  her  parents  were  poor, 
or  because  she  was  too  kind  hearted  to  say  no.  Anyway,  it  must 
have  been  horrid  for  her  to  know  that  he  was  rich  enough  to  let 
her  do  anything  she  liked,  but  would  n't  let  her  do  anything  nice, 
because  he  was  a  Consistent  Democrat,  and  did  n't  believe  in 
show  or  "tomfoolery." 

I  'm  sure  I  could  n't  explain  what  a  Consistent  Democrat  real 
ly  is ;  but  Papa's  idea  of  being  it  was  to  scorn  "  society  people,  " 
not  to  have  pretty  clothes  or  many  servants,  to  look  plain  and 
speak  plainly,  always  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  especially  if  you 
would  hurt  anybody's  feelings  by  doing  so,  and  not  to  spend 
much  money  except  on  uninteresting  books. 

Mamma  would  have  loved  better  than  anything  to  be  a  society 
leader,  and  have  her  name  appear  often  in  the  papers,  like  other 
ladies  in  Denver  who,  she  used  to  tell  me,  did  n't  come  from  half 
as  good  family  as  she  did.  But  Papa  would  n't  let  her  go  out 
much,  and  she  did  n't  know  any  of  the  people  she  wanted  to 
know  —  only  quite  common  ones  whose  husbands  kept  stores  or 
had  other  businesses  which  she  did  n't  consider  refined.  I  'm 
afraid  I  was  never  much  comfort  to  poor  Mamma  either.  That 
cantankerousness  of  mine  which  makes  me  see  how  funny  people 


92  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

and  things  are,  always  came  between  us,  and  I  expect  it  always 
will.  I  must  have  been  born  old. 

Her  only  real  pleasure  was  reading  novels  on  the  sly,  all  about 
smart  society  and  the  aristocracy,  but  especially  English  aris 
tocracy.  She  simply  revelled  in  such  stories ;  and  when  Papa  died 
suddenly  without  time  to  tie  up  his  money  so  as  to  force  Mamma 
to  go  on  doing  what  he  wanted,  and  not  what  she  wanted,  all  the 
rest  of  her  life,  the  first  thing  that  occurred  to  her  was  how  to 
make  up  for  lost  time. 

"We  '11  travel  in  Europe  for  a  year  or  two,"  she  said  to  me, 
"  and  when  we  come  back  we  '11  just  show  Denver  society  peo 
ple  that  we  're  somebody  " 

That  was  all  she  thought  of  in  the  beginning,  but  when  we  'd 
gone  East  to  Chicago  for  a  change,  and  were  staying  at  a  big 
hotel  there,  a  new  idea  came  into  her  head.  Partly  it  was  from 
seeing  so  many  smart-looking  young  women  having  a  good  time 
every  minute  of  their  lives,  and  feeling  what  was  the  use  of  being 
free  to  enjoy  herself  at  last,  with  plenty  of  money,  when  she  was 
dowdy  and  not  so  very  young  any  more  ?  (I  could  tell  just  wrhat 
was  in  her  mind  by  the  wistful  way  she  looked  at  gorgeous  ladies 
who  had  the  air  of  owning  the  world,  with  a  fence  a-round  it.) 
And  partly  it  was  seeing  an  advertisement  in  a  newspaper. 

Mamma  did  n't  mention  the  advertisement  to  me  at  first.  But 
when  she  'd  been  away  one  morning  alone  on  a  secret  errand 
she  stammered  and  fidgetted  a  little,  and  said  she  had  something 
to  explain  to  me.  Then  it  all  came  out. 

She  'd  been  to  call  on  a  wonderful  French  madame  who  could 
make  a  woman  of  thirty-eight  (that 's  Mamma's  Bible  age)  look 
twenty-five,  and  she  hoped  I  would  n't  lose  respect  for  her  as  my 
mother  or  think  her  frivolous  and  horrid  if  she  put  herself  into 
the  madame's  hands  for  a  few  weeks.  I  could  n't  help  laughing, 
but  Mamma  cried,  and  said  that  she  'd  never  had  a  real  good 
time  since  she  was  grown  up.  She  did  long  to  have  one  at  last, 
very  much,  if  only  I  'd  let  her  do  it  in  peace. 

I  stopped  laughing  and  almost  cried,  myself;  but  I  did  F'* 


A   CHAPTER  OF  CHILDISHNESS  93 

let  her  see  that  I  wanted  to.  Instead,  I  asked  what  would  be  the 
sense  of  looking  twenty-five,  anyhow,  when  everybody  would 
know  she  must  be  more,  with  a  daughter  going  on  seventeen. 

Mamma  had  n't  thought  of  that.  She  seemed  years  older  than 
ever  for  a  minute;  and  then  she  put  her  hand  in  mine.  Hers  was 
as  cold  as  ice.  "  Would  you  mind  going  back  a  little,  darling  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  It  would  be  so  kind  and  sweet  of  you,  and  it  would 
make  all  the  difference  to  me." 

"  Going  back  ?  "  I  repeated.  "  Whatever  do  you  mean  ?  " 

It  made  her  dreadfully  nervous  to  explain,  because  she  was 
afraid  I  'd  poke  fun  at  her,  but  she  did  get  out  the  idea  finally. 
"  Going  back "  was  to  bring  on  my  second  childhood  prema 
turely.  Thirteen  was  a  nice  age,  she  thought,  because  many  girls 
get  their  full  growth  then ;  and  if  I  was  n't  more  than  thirteen  she 
could  begin  life  over  again  at  twenty-nine. 

"What,  let  down  my  hair  and  wear  my  dresses  short?"  I 
asked. 

She  admitted  that  was  what  I  'd  have  to  do. 

I  thought  for  a  whole  minute,  and  at  last  I  just  could  n't  bear 
to  disappoint  her.  But  all  the  same,  I  reminded  myself,  I  might  as 
well  make  a  good  bargain  while  I  was  about  it. 

"  If  I  do  what  you  want,"  said  I,  you  '11  have  to  be  mighty  nice 
to  me.  I  must  be  given  my  way  about  important  things.  If  you 
ever  refuse  to  do  what  I  like,  after  I  've  done  so  much  for  you,  I  '11 
just  turn  up  my  hair  and  put  on  a  long  frock.  Then  everybody  '11 
see  how  old  I  am." 

She  would  have  promised  anything,  I  guess;  and  that  very 
afternoon  she  gave  me  three  lovely  rings,  and  a  ducky  little 
bracelet-watch,  when  we  were  out  shopping  for  short  clothes 
and  babyfied  hats.  Soon  we  moved  away  from  that  hotel  to  one 
on  the  north  side,  where  nobody  had  seen  us ;  and  the  first  thing 
I  knew,  I  was  a  little  girl  again. 

It  certainly  was  fun.  To  really  appreciate  being  a  child,  you 
ought  to  have  been  grown  up  in  another  state  of  existence,  and 
remember  your  sensations.  It  was  something  like  that  with  me, 


94  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

and  my  life  was  almost  as  good  as  a  play.  I  could  say  and  do 
dreadfully  naughty  things,  which  would  have  been  outrageous 
for  a  grown-up  young  lady  of  nearly  seventeen.  And  did  nt  I  do 
them  all  ?  I  never  missed  a  single  chance,  and  I  flatter  myself  that 
I  have  n't  since. 

The  French  madame  made  a  real  work  of  art  of  Mamira.  The 
progress  was  lovely  to  watch.  She  kept  herself  shut  up  in  her  room 
all  day,  pretending  to  be  an  invalid,  and  drove  out  in  a  veil  to  the 
madame's.  Then,  when  she  was  finished,  we  went  right  away 
from  Chicago  to  New  York,  where  we  meant  to  stay  for  a  while 
till  we  sailed  for  Europe. 

Mamma  had  n't  been  East  before,  since  she  was  a  girl  of 
twenty,  for  that  was  when  she  married  Papa,  and  he  took  her  to 
live  in  Denver.  We  bought  lots  of  beautiful  things  in  New  York, 
and  Mamma  enjoyed  herself  so  much,  being  pretty  and  having 
people  stare  at  her,  that  she  was  almost  sick  from  excitement. 

When  we  'd  seen  all  the  sights  and  were  tired  of  shopping,  she 
remembered  that  she  'd  got  a  niece  staying  in  the  country  not  far 
away,  on  the  Hudson  River.  I  'd  heard  Mamma  speak  of  her 
sister,  who,  when  seventeen,  had  married  a  Savant  (whatever  that 
is),  and  had  gone  to  California  soon  afterwards,  because  she  was 
delicate.  But  evidently  the  change  had  n't  done  her  much  good, 
because  she  died  when  her  baby  was  born.  The  Savant  went  on 
living,  but  he  could  n't  love  his  daughter  properly,  as  she  'd  been 
the  cause  of  her  mother's  death.  Besides,  he  was  n't  the  kind  of 
man  to  understand  children,  so  when  Madeleine  was  nine  or  ten, 
he  sent  her  to  a  school  —  a  very  queer  school.  It  was  kept  by  a 
Sisterhood;  not  nuns  exactly,  because  they  were  Protestants,  but 
almost  as  good  or  as  bad;  and  an  elderly  female  cousin  of  the 
Savant's  was  the  head  of  the  institution. 

There  Madeleine  Destrey  had  been  ever  since,  though  Mamma 
said  she  must  be  nineteen  or  twenty;  and  now  her  father  was 
dead.  That  news  had  been  sent  to  Mamma  months  before  we 
left  Denver,  but  as  she  and  the  Savant  had  written  to  each  other 
only  about  once  every  five  or  six  years,  it  had  n't  affected  her 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHILDISHNESS  95 

much.  However,  she  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  go  and  see 
Madeleine,  and  I  thought  so  too. 

It  was  a  short  journey  in  the  train,  and  the  place  where  the 
Sisterhood  live  is  perfectly  lovely,  the  most  beautiful  I  ever 
saw,  with  quantities  of  great  trees  on  a  flowery  lawn  sloping  down 
to  the  river. 

I  was  wondering  what  my  cousin  would  be  like  —  the  only 
cousin  I  've  got  in  the  world  ;  and  though  Mamma  said  she 
must  be  pretty,  if  she  was  anything  like  her  mother,  I  did  n't  ex 
pect  her  to  be  half  as  pretty  as  she  really  is. 

We  surprised  her  as  much  as  she  did  us,  for  naturally  she  ex 
pected  Mamma  to  be  like  other  aunts,  which  she  is  n't  at  all  — 
now;  and  evidently  she  considered  me  a  curiosity.  But  she  was 
very  sweet,  and  when  she  found  Mamma  did  n't  want  to  be 
called  Aunt  Kathryn,  she  tried  hard  always  to  *'  Kitty  "  her. 

We  only  intended  to  spend  the  day,  but  it  turned  out  that  the 
time  of  our  visit  was  rather  critical  for  Maida.  She  was  in  the  act 
of  having  her  twentieth  birthday;  and  it  seemed  that  in  her  fath 
er's  will  he  had  "  stipulated "  (that 's  the  word  the  cousin- 
Mother-Superior  used)  that  his  daughter  should  be  sent  to 
travel  in  Europe  when  she  was  twenty,  for  a  whole  year. 

The  reason  of  the  stipulation  was,  that  though  he  did  n't  care 
for  Maida  as  most  fathers  care  for  their  children,  he  was  a  very 
just  man,  and  was  afraid,  after  living  so  long  in  the  Sisterhood 
his  daughter  might  wish  to  join  the  Order,  without  knowing 
enough  about  the  outside  world  to  make  up  her  mind  whether  it 
truly  was  her  vocation  for  good  and  all.  That  was  why  she  was  to 
go  to  Europe;  for  when  you  're  twenty-one  you  can  become  a 
novice  in  the  Sisterhood,  if  you  like. 

The  Mother  Superior  did  n't  really  want  Maida  to  go  one  bit. 
It  was  easy  to  see  her  anxiety  to  have  the  "  dear  child  safe  in  the 
fold."  But  Maida  was  n't  to  inherit  a  penny  of  her  father's  money 
if  she  did  n't  obey  his  will,  which  would  n't  suit  the  Sisterhood  at 
all ;  so  the  Mother  had  to  hustle  round  and  think  how  to  pack 
Maida  off  for  the  year. 


96  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

When  we  happened  to  arrive  on  the  scene,  she  thought  we  were 
like  Moses's  ram  caught  in  the  bushes.  She  told  Mamma  the 
whole  story  —  (a  ramrod  of  a  lady  with  a  white  face,  a  white 
dress,  and  a  long,  floating  white  veil,  she  was)  asking  right  out  if 
we  'd  take  Maida  with  us  to  Europe. 

Mamma  did  n't  like  the  idea  of  being  chaperon  for  such  a  girl 
as  Maida;  but  it  was  her  own  sister's  daughter,  and  Mamma  is  as 
good-natured  as  a  Mellin's  Food  Baby  in  a  magazine,  though  she 
gets  into  little  tempers  sometimes.  So  she  said,"  Yes,"  and  a  fort 
night  later  we  all  three  sailed  on  a  huge  German  steamer  for 
Cherbourg.  "  At  least,  that 's  what  we  did  in  the  '  dream,' "  I  re 
minded  myself,  when  I  had  got  so  far  in  my  thoughts,  lying  in  the 
monastery  bed.  And  by  that  time  the  light  was  so  clear  in  the 
tiny  white  room,  that  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  about  it,  I 
really  was  awake.  I  was  dear  little  thirteen-year-old  Beechy  Kid- 
der,  who  was  n't  telling  fibs  about  her  age,  because  she  was  thir 
teen,  and  was  it  anybody's  business  if  she  were  something  more 
besides  ? 


VIII 
A  CHAPTER  OF  PLAYING  DOLLS 

I  LOOKED  at  my  bracelet-watch,  which  I  had  tucked  under 
my  pillow  last  night.  It  was  n't  quite  six  o'clock,  and  we 
had  n't  gone  to  bed  till  after  one;  but  I  knew  I  could  n't 
sleep  any  more,  and  life  seemed  so  interesting  that  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  get  up  to  see  what  would  come  next. 
The  water-pitcher  did  n't  hold  much  more  than  a  quart,  but  I 
took  the  best  bath  I  could,  dressed,  and  decided  to  find  out  what 
the  monastery  grounds  were  like.  We  were  not  to  be  called  till 
half-past  seven,  and  it  was  arranged  that  we  should  start  at  nine, 
so  there  was  an  hour  and  a  half  to  spare.  I  wondered  whether  I 
should  wake  Maida,  and  get  her  to  go  with  me,  but  somehow  I 
was  n't  in  the  mood  for  Maida.  I  was  afraid  that,  being  in  a  mon 
astery,  she  would  be  thinking  of  her  precious  Sisterhood  and 
wanting  to  hurry  back  as  fast  as  she  could.  She  does  mean  to  join 
when  her  year  is  up,  I  know,  which  is  so  silly  of  her,  when  the 
world  's  such  a  nice  place;  and  it  nearly  gives  me  nervous  pros 
tration  to  hear  her  talk  about  it.  Not  that  she  often  does ;  but  it 's 
bad  enough  to  see  it  in  her  eyes. 

Maida  is  a  perfect  dear,  much  too  good  for  us,  and  she  always 
knows  the  proper  etiquetical  thing  to  do  when  Mamma  and  I  are 
wobbly;  but  she  is  such  an  edelweiss  that  I  'm  always  being 
tempted  to  claw  her  down  from  her  high  white  crags  and  then 
regretting  it  afterwards.  Mamma  gets  cross  with  her  too,  when 
she  's  particularly  exalted,  but  we  both  love  her  dearly;  and  we 
ought  to,  for  she  's  always  doing  something  sweet  for  us.  Only 
she  's  a  great  deal  too  humble.  I  suppose  it 's  the  thing  to  be  like 

97 


98  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

that  in  a  Sisterhood,  but  Mamma  and  I  are  n't  a  Sisterhood,  and 
the  sooner  Maida  realizes  that  there  's  such  a  place  as  the  world, 
the  better  it  will  be  for  her. 

So  I  did  n't  wake  Maida,  but  went  tiptoeing  out  into  the  long 
corridor,  and  got  lost  several  times  looking  for  the  way  out  of 
doors. 

At  last  I  was  in  the  garden,  though,  and  it  was  very  quaint  and 
pretty,  with  unexpected  nooks,  old,  moss-covered  stone  seats, 
and  a  sundial  that  you  'd  pay  hundreds  of  dollars  for  in  Amer 
ica.  Staring  up  at  the  house  I  thought  a  window-shutter  moved ; 
but  I  did  n't  attach  any  importance  to  that  until,  after  I  'd 
crossed  several  small  bridges  and  discovered  a  kind  of  island 
with  the  river  rushing  by  on  both  sides,  I  saw  Prince  Dalmar- 
Kalm  coming  towards  me. 

I  was  sitting  on  a  bench  on  the  little  green  island,  where  I  pre 
tended  to  be  gazing  down  at  the  water  and  not  to  see  him  till  he 
was  close  by;  for  I  was  in  hope  that  he  would  n't  notice  me  in 
my  grey  dress  among  the  trees.  I  don't  believe  the  Prince's  best 
friends  would  call  him  an  early  morning  man.  He  's  the  kind  that 
ought  n't  to  be  out  before  lunch,  and  he  goes  especially  well  with 
gaslight  or  electricity.  I  felt  sure  he  'd  be  unbearable  before 
breakfast  —  either  his  breakfast  or  mine. 

"  It 's  a  pity,"  I  thought,  "  that  I  can't  run  down  as  rapidly 
from  the  age  of  thirteen  to  the  age  of  one  as  I  have  from  seven 
teen  to  thirteen.  When  the  Prince  found  me,  I  should  be  sitting 
on  the  grass  playing  with  dandelions  and  saying,  'Da,  da?* 
which  would  disgust  him  so  much  that  he  'd  stalk  away  and 
leave  me  in  peace  to  grow  up  in  time  for  breakfast." 

But  even  a  child  must  draw  the  line  somewhere;  and  presently 
the  Prince  said  "  Good-morning  "  (so  nicely  that  I  thought  he 
must  have  had  a  cracker  or  two  in  his  pocket),  asking  if  he  might 
sit  by  me  on  the  bench. 

"  I  was  just  going  in  to  wake  Mamma,"  I  replied,  and  I  won 
dered  whether,  if  I  jumped  up  suddenly,  his  end  of  the  bench 
would  go  down  and  tilt  him  into  the  river.  It  would  have  been 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLAYING  DOLLS  99 

fun  to  see  His  Highness  become  His  Lowness,  and  to  tell  Sir  Ralph 
Moray  afterwards,  but  just  as  I  was  on  the  point  of  making  a 
spring,  he  remarked  that  he  had  seen  me  come  out,  and  followed 
for  a  particular  reason.  If  I  tumbled  him  into  the  water,  I  might 
never  hear  that  reason;  so  seventeen-year-old  curiosity  overcame 
thirteen-year-old  love  of  mischief,  and  I  sat  still. 

"  As  you  have  only  just  come  out,  I  don't  see  why  you  should 
be  just  going  in,  unless  it  is  to  get  away  from  me,"  said  the 
Prince,  "and  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that,  because  you  are 
such  a  dear  little  girl,  and  I  am  very  fond  of  you." 

"  So  was  Papa,"  said  I,  with  my  best  twelve-and-a-half -year- 
old  expression. 

!K"  But  I  am  not  quite  ancient  enough  to  be  your  Papa,"  replied 
the  Prince,  "so  you  need  not  name  us  together  like  that." 

"Are  n't  you  ?"  I  asked,  with  big  eyes. 

"Well,  that  depends  on  how  old  you  are,  my  dear." 

"  I  'm  too  old  for  you  to  call  your  dear,  unless  you  are  old 
enough  to  be  my  Papa,"  was  the  sage  retort  of  Baby  Beechy. 

"  I  'm  over  thirty,"  said  the  Prince. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  I.  "I  found  the  Almanach  de  Gotha  on 
the  table  of  our  hotel  at  Cap  Martin,  and  you  were  in  it." 

"  Naturally,"  said  the  Prince,  but  he  got  rather  red,  as  people 
always  do  when  they  find  out  that  you  know  just  how  far  over 
thirty  they  've  really  gone.  "  But  I  'm  not  married,"  he  went  on, 
"therefore  you  cannot  think  of  me  as  of  your  papa." 

"I  don't  think  of  you  much  as  anything,"  said  I.  "I  'm  too 
busy." 

"  Too  busy !  Doing  what  ? " 

"  Playing  dolls,"  I  explained. 

"  I  wish  you  were  a  little  older,"  said  the  Prince,  with  a  good 
imitation  of  a  sigh.  "  Ah,  why  have  n't  you  a  few  years  more  ? " 

"  You  might  ask  Mamma,"  I  replied.  "  But  then,  if  I  had,  she 
would  have  more  too  would  n't  she  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  a  pity.  She  is  charming  as  she  is.  She  must 
have  married  when  almost  a  child." 


100  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  Did  you  come  out  here  at  this  time  of  the  morning  to  ask  me 
about  Mamma's  marriage  ? "  I  threw  at  him.  "  Because,  if  that 
was  your  reason,  I  'd  rather  go  in  to  my  dolls." 

"  No,  no,"  protested  the  Prince,  in  a  hurry.  "  I  came  to  talk 
about  yourself." 

I  began  to  feel  an  attack  of  giggles  coming  on,  but  I  stopped 
them  by  holding  my  breath,  as  you  do  for  hiccoughs,  and  think 
ing  about  Job,  which,  if  you  can  do  it  soon  and  solemnly  enough, 
is  quite  a  good  preventive.  I  knew  now  exactly  why  Prince  Dal- 
mar-Kalm  had  dashed  on  his  clothes  at  sight  of  me  and  come  into 
the  garden  on  an  empty  stomach.  He  had  thought,  if  he  could  get 
me  all  alone  for  half  an  hour  (which  he  'd  often  tried  to  do  and 
never  succeeded)  he  could  find  out  a  lot  of  things  that  he  would 
like  to  know.  Perhaps  he  felt  it  was  impossible  for  anybody  to  be 
as  young  as  I  seem,  so  that  was  what  he  wanted  to  find  out  about 
first.  If  I  was  nt,  he  would  flirt;  if  I  was,  he  would  merely  pump. 

There  was  n't  much  time  to  decide  on  a  "  course  of  action," 
as  Mamma's  lawyer  in  Denver  says ;  but  I  put  on  my  thinking- 
cap  and  tied  it  tight  under  my  chin  for  a  minute.  "  There  's  more 
fun  to  be  had  in  playing  with  him  than  with  dolls,"  I  said  to  my 
self,  "  if  I  set  about  it  in  the  right  way.  But  what  is  the  right  way  ? 
I  can't  be  bothered  having  him  for  my  doll,  because  he  'd  take  up 
too  much  time.  Shall  I  give  him  to  Maida  ?  No,  I  '11  lend  him  to 
Mamma  to  play  with,  so  long  as  she  plays  the  way  I  want  her  to, 
and  does  n't  get  in  earnest." 

"  What  are  you  anxious  to  say  about  me  that  can't  wait  till 
breakfast  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Those  men  will  be  at  breakfast,"  said  he.  "  They  are  in  the 
position  of  your  couriers,  yet  they  put  themselves  forward,  as  if 
on  an  equality  with  me.  I  do  not  find  that  conducive  to  conver 
sation." 

"  Mamma  asked  Maida  yesterday  whether  it  was  better  to  be 
an  Austrian  prince,  or  an  English  baronet  ?"  said  I.  "  Sir  Ralph 
Moray  's  a  baronet." 

"  So  he  says,"  sneered  the  Prince. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLAYING  DOLLS  101 

"Oh,  he  is.  Mamma  looked  him;  out'*iji;Bnrke  tHe'very  day  I 
found  you  were  thirty-nine  in  the  AJmanach.de  Gotha." 


"Anybody  can  be  a  baronet.  Thai  I.s 
word." 

"  It  's  in  three  syllables,  and  '  prince  '  is  only  in  one.  Besides, 
Austrians  are  foreigners,  and  Englishmen  are  n't." 

"  Is  that  what  Miss  Destrey  said  to  your  Mamma  ?  " 

"  No,  because  Mamma  's  a  foreign  Countess  now,  and  it  might 
have  hurt  her  feelings.  Maida  said  she  felt  more  at  home  with  a 
plain  mister  —  like  Mr.  Barrymore,  for  instance;  only  he  's  far 
from  plain." 

"  You  consider  him  handsome  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  we  all  do." 

"  But  I  think  you  have  not  known  him  and  Sir  Ralph  Moray 
for  long.  Your  Mamma  has  not  mentioned  how  she  met  them, 
but  from  one  or  two  things  that  have  been  dropped,  I  feel  sure 
they  are  in  her  employ  —  that  she  has  hired  them  to  take  you 
about  in  their  very  inadequate  car;  is  it  not  so?" 

"  I  '11  ask  Mamma  and  tell  you  what  she  says,  if  you  'd  like  me 
to,"  I  replied. 

"  No,  no,  dear  child,  you  are  too  literal.  It  is  your  one  fault. 
And  I  find  that  you  are  all  three  too  trusting  of  strangers.  It  is  a 
beautiful  quality,  but  it  must  not  be  carried  too  far.  Will  you  not 
let  me  be  your  friend,  Miss  Beechy,  and  come  to  me  for  advice  ?  I 
should  be  delighted  to  give  it,  for  you  know  what  an  interest  I 
take  in  all  connected  with  you.  There  !  Now  you  have  heard  what 
I  followed  you  out  especially  to  say.  I  hoped  that  this  would  be  a 
chance  to  establish  a  confidential  relationship  between  us.  Vou- 
lez-vous,  ma  chere  petite  ?  " 

"  What  kind  of  a  relationship  shall  we  establish,  exactly  ?  "  I 
asked.  "  You  say  you  don't  want  to  be  my  Papa." 

"If  I  were  your  Papa,  I  should  be  dead." 

"  If  you  were  my  brother,  and  the  age  you  are  now,  Mamma 
might  as  well  be  dead." 

"  Ah,  I  would  not  be  your  brother  on  any  consideration.  Not 


102  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

even  your  ,st«jp-brother;  though  some  step-relationships  are  de 
lightful.  But  yourM&mma.  is  too  charming  —  you  are  all  too 
charimag.  for  ray  peace  of  mi  Ad.  I  do  not  know  how  I  lived  be 
fore  I  met  you." 

I  thought  that  the  money-lenders  perhaps  knew;  but  there  are 
some  things  even  little  Beechy  can't  say. 

"  Your  Mamma  must  have  great  responsibilities  for  so  young  a 
woman,"  he  went  on,  while  I  pruned  and  prismed.  "With  her 
great  fortune,  and  no  one  to  guard  her,  she  must  often  feel  the 
weight  of  her  burden  too  heavy  for  one  pair  of  shoulders." 

"  One  can  always  spend  one's  fortune,  and  so  get  rid  of  the 
burden,  if  it 's  too  big,"  said  I. 

The  Prince  looked  horrified.  "  Surely  she  is  more  wise  than 
that  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

'*  She  has  n't  spent  it  all  yet,  anyhow,"  I  said. 

"  Are  you  not  anxious  lest,  if  your  Mamma  is  extravagant,  she 
may  throw  away  your  fortune  as  well  as  her  own;  or  did  your 
Papa  think  of  that  danger,  and  make  you  quite  secure  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  shall  have  a  little  something  left,  no  matter  what 
happens,"  I  admitted. 

"  Then  your  Papa  was  thoughtful  for  you.  But  was  he  also  jeal 
ous  for  himself  ?  Had  I  been  the  husband  of  so  fascinating  a  wo 
man  as  your  Mamma,  I  would  have  put  into  my  will  a  clause 
that,  if  she  married  again,  she  must  forfeit  everything.  But  it  may 
be  that  Americans  do  not  hug  their  jealousy  in  the  grave." 

"  I  can't  imagine  poor  Papa  hugging  anything,"  I  said.  "  I 
never  heard  that  he  objected  to  Mamma  marrying  again.  Any 
how,  she  's  had  several  offers  already." 

"  She  should  choose  a  man  of  title  for  her  second  husband," 
said  the  Prince,  very  pleased  with  the  way  the  pump  was  working. 

"  Maybe  she  will,"  I  answered. 

He  started  slightly. 

"  It  should  be  a  title  worth  having,"  he  said,  "  and  a  man  fitted 
to  bear  it,  not  a  paltry  upstart  whose  father  was  perhaps  a  trades 
man.  You,  Miss  Beechy,  must  watch  over  your  dear  Mamma 


"  Will  you  not  let  me  be  your  friend,  Miss  Beechy  ?  " 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PLAYING  DOLLS 

and  rescue  her  from  fortune  hunters.  I  will  help.  And  I  will  pro 
tect  you,  also.  As  for  Miss  Destrey,  beautiful  as  she  is,  I  feel  that 
she  is  safe  from  unworthy  persons  who  seek  a  woman  only  for 
her  money.  Her  face  is  her  fortune,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  " 

"  Well,  it 's  fortune  enough  for  any  girl,"  said  I,  thinking  again 
of  Job  and  all  the  other  really  solemn  characters  in  the  Old  Tes 
tament  as  hard  as  ever  I  could. 

The  Prince  sighed,  genuinely  this  time,  as  if  my  answer  had 
confirmed  his  worst  suspicions.  "He  will  be  nice  to  Mamma, 
now,"  said  little  Beechy  to  big  Beechy.  "No  more  vacillating. 
He  '11  come  straight  to  business."  And  promising  myself  some 
fun,  I  got  up  from  the  bench  so  cautiously  that  the  poor  river  was 
cheated  of  a  victim.  "  Now  I  must  go  in,"  I  exclaimed.  "  Good- 
bye,  Prince.  Let  me  see ;  what  are  we  to  each  other  ?  " 

"  Confidants,"  he  informed  me.  "  You  are  to  come  to  me  with 
every  difficulty.  But  one  more  word  before  we  part,  dear  child. 
Be  on  your  guard,  and  warn  your  Mamma  to  be  on  hers,  with 
those  two  adventurers.  Perhaps,  also,  you  had  better  warn  Miss 
Destrey.  Who  knows  how  unscrupulous  the  pair  might  be  ? 
And  unfortunately,  owing  to  the  regrettable  arrangements  at 
present  existing,  I  cannot  always  be  at  hand  to  watch  over  you 
all." 

"  Owing  a  little  to  your  automobile  too,  maybe,"  said  I.  "  By 
the  way,  what  is  its  state  of  health  ?  " 

"  There  has  been  no  room  for  the  automobile  in  my  thoughts," 
said  the  Prince,  with  a  cooled-down  step-fatherly  smile.  "  But  I 
have  no  doubt  it  will  be  in  good  marching  order  by  the  time  it  is 
wanted,  as  my  chauffeur  was  to  rise  at  four,  knock  up  a  mechanic 
at  some  shop  in  the  village,  and  make  the  new  change-speed 
lever  which  was  broken  yesterday.  If  you  are  determined  to  leave 
me  so  soon,  I  will  console  myself  by  finding  Joseph  and  seeing 
how  he  is  getting  on." 

We  walked  together  towards  the  house,  which  had  opened 
several  of  its  green  eyelids  now,  and  at  the  mouth  of  a  sort  of 
stucco  tunnel  which  led  to  the  door  there  was  Joseph  him- 


104  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

self  —  a  piteous,  dishevelled  Joseph,  looking  as  if  birds  had 
built  nests  on  him  and  spiders  had  woven  webs  round  him  for 
years. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  Prince  with  the  air  of  one  warding  off  a 
blow.  "  What  has  happened  ?  Have  you  burnt  my  automobile,  or 
are  you  always  like  this  when  you  get  up  early  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  an  incendiary,  Your  Highness,"  said  Joseph,  in  his 
precise  French,  which  it  's  easy  to  understand,  because  when  he 
wishes  to  be  dignified  he  speaks  slowly.  "  I  do  not  know  what  I 
am  like,  unless  it  is  a  wreck,  in  which  case  I  resemble  your  auto 
mobile.  As  you  left  her  last  night,  so  she  is  now,  and  so  she  is 
likely  to  remain,  unless  the  gentlemen  of  the  other  car  will  have 
the  beneficence  to,pull  her  up  a  still  further  and  more  violent  hill 
to  the  village  of  Tenda.  There  finds  himself  the  only  mechanic 
within  fifty  miles." 

"  I  engaged  you  as  a  mechanic ! "  cried  the  Prince. 

"  But  not  as  a  workshop,  Your  Highness.  That  I  am  not  and 
shall  not  be  this  side  of  Paradise.  And  it  is  a  workshop  that  we 
must  have." 

"  Do  not  let  me  keep  you,  Miss  Beechy,"  said  the  Prince,  "  if 
you  wish  to  go  to  your  Mamma.  This  little  difficulty  will  arrange 
itself." 

I  adore  rows,  and  I  should  have  liked  to  stay;  but  I  could  n't 
think  of  any  excuse,  so  I  skipped  into  the  house,  and  almost  tel 
escoped  (as  they  say  of  railroad  trains)  with  the  nice  monk,  who 
was  talking  to  Maida  in  the  hall. 

I  supposed  she  was  telling  him  about  the  Sisters,  but  she  was 
quite  indignant  at  the  suggestion,  and  said  she  had  been  asking 
if  we  could  have  breakfast  in  the  garden.  The  monk  had  given 
his  consent,  and  she  had  intended  to  have  everything  arranged 
out  doors,  as  a  surprise,  by  the  time  we  all  came  down. 

"Aunt  Kathryn  is  up;  I  've  been  doing  her  hair,"  explained 
Maida,  "  but  we  did  n't  hear  a  sound  from  your  room,  so  we  de 
cided  not  to  disturb  you.  What  have  you  been  about,  you  weird 
child?" 


A   CHAPTER  OF  PLAYING  DOLLS  105 

"  Playing  dolls,"  said  I,  and  ran  off  to  help  Mamma  put  on  her 
complexion. 

But  it  was  on  already,  all  except  the  icing.  I  confessed  the 
Prince  to  her,  and  she  looked  at  me  sharply.  "  Don't  forget  that 
you  're  a  little  girl  now,  Beechy,"  she  reminded  me.  "  What  were 
you  talking  about  ?  " 

"You  and  my  other  dolls,  Mamma,"  said  I.  "Even  when  I 
was  seventeen  I  never  flirted  fasting." 

"  What  did  you  say  about  me,  dearest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  the  Prince  who  said  things  about  you.  You  can 
have  him  to  play  with,  if  you  want  to." 

"  Darling,  you  should  n't  talk  of  playing.  This  is  a  very  serious 
consideration,"  said  Mamma.  "  I  never  heard  much  about  Aus- 
trians  at  home.  Most  foreigners  there  were  Germans,  which 
made  one  think  of  beer  and  sausages.  I  do  wonder  what  stand 
ing  an  Austrian  Prince  would  have  in  Denver?  Should  you 
suppose  he  would  be  preferred  to  —  to  persons  of  less  exalted 
rank  who  were  —  who  were  not  quite  so  foreign?  " 

"Do  the  Prince  and  Sir  Ralph  Moray  intend  to  go  over  as 
samples  ?  "  I  asked  sweetly,  but  Mamma  only  simpered,  and  as  a 
self-respecting  child  I  cannot  approve  of  a  parent's  simpering. 

"  I  wish  you  would  n't  be  silly,  Beechy,"  she  said.  "  It  is  a  step, 
being  a  Countess,  but  it  is  not  enough." 

"  You  mean,  the  more  crowns  you  have,  the  more  crowns  you 
want." 

"  I  mean  nothing  of  the  sort,"  snapped  Mamma,  "  but  I  have 
some  ambition,  otherwise  what  would  have  been  the  good  of 
coming  to  Europe  ?  And  if  one  gets  opportunities,  it  would  be 
sinful  to  neglect  them.  Only  —  one  wants  to  be  sure  that  one  has 
taken  the  best." 

"  There  they  all  three  are,  in  the  yard,"  I  remarked,  pointing 
out  of  the  window  at  the  Opportunities,  who  were  discoursing 
earnestly  with  Joseph.  "  Of  course,  I  'm  too  young  now  to  judge 
of  such  matters,  but  if  it  was  /  who  had  to  choose  —  " 

"Well?" 


106  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  I  'd  toss  up  a  penny,  and  whichever  side  came,  I  'd  take  —  " 

"Yes?" 

"Mr.  Barrymore." 

"Mr.  Barrymore!  But  he  has  no  title!  I  might  as  well  have 
stayed  in  America." 

"  I  said  that,  because  I  think  he  'd  be  the  hardest  to  get.  The 
other  two  —  " 

"What  about  them?" 

"  Well,  you  don't  need  to  decide  between  them  yet.  Just  wait 
till  we  've  travelled  a  little  further,  and  see  whether  you  come 
across  anything  better  worth  having." 

"  Oh,  Beechy,  I  never  know  whether  you  're  poking  fun  at  me 
or  not,"  sighed  poor  Mamma,  so  forlornly  that  I  was  sorry  —  for 
a  whole  minute  —  that  I  'd  been  born  wicked ;  and  I  tied  her 
tulle  in  a  lovely  bow  at  the  back  of  her  neck,  to  make  up. 


IX 

A  CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS 

MAID  A  really  was  the  prettiest  thing  ever  created,  when 
I  looked  down  at  her  from  Mamma's  window,  as  she 
arranged  flowers  and  cups  and  saucers  on  the  table 
which  the  monk  had  carried  out  for  her,  into  the 
garden.  He  had  quite  a  gallant  air,  in  his  innocent  way,  as  if  he 
were  an  old  beau,  instead  of  a  monk,  and  his  poor  face  seemed 
to  fall  when  Mamma's  untitled  Opportunity  —  all  unconscious 
that  he  was  an  Opportunity  —  saw  Maida,  left  Joseph,  and 
sprang  to  her  assistance.  But  no  wonder  those  two  men,  so 
different  one  from  the  other,  found  the  same  joy  in  waiting  on 
her!  The  morning  sun  sprinkled  gold  on  her  hair,  and  made 
her  fair  skin  look  milky  white,  like  pearl;  then,  when  she  would 
pass  under  the  arbour  of  trees,  the  shadows  threw  a  glimmering 
veil  over  her,  and  turned  her  into  a  mermaid  deep  down  in  the 
green  light  of  the  sea. 

I  don't  believe  our  glorified  chauffeur  would  have  stopped 
talking  motor  talk  and  run  about  with  dishes  for  Mamma  or  me 
as  he  did  for  Maida.  And  I  wonder  if  one  of  us  had  adopted  that 
little  scarecrow  of  a  black  dog,  whether  he  would  have  given  it  a 
bath  in  the  fountain  and  dried  it  with  his  pocket-handkerchief  ? 

That  is  often  the  way.  If  a  girl  has  set  her  face  against  mar 
riage  and  would  rather  be  good  to  the  poor  than  flirt,  every  man 
she  's  reluctantly  forced  to  meet  promptly  falls  in  love  with  her, 
while  all  the  thoroughly  nice,  normal  female  things  like  Mamma 
and  me  have  to  take  a  back  seat. 

By  the  way,  Mamma  and  I  are  literally  in  the  back  seat  on  this 

107 


108  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

automobile  trip;  but  my  name  is  n't  Beechy  Kidder  if  it  's  dull 
for  any  length  of  time. 

However,  this  reflection  is  only  a  parenthesis  in  the  midst  of 
breakfast ;  for  we  all  had  breakfast  together  in  the  monastery  gar 
den  and  were  as  "gay  as  grigs.  "  (N.B.  —  Some  kind  of  animal 
for  which  Sir  Ralph  is  responsible.) 

The  Prince  was  nice  to  the  two  "  adventurers,"  because  he 
did  n't  want  them  to  repent  their  promise  to  tow  his  car  up  to 
Tenda ;  Maida  was  nice  to  everybody,  because  a  monastery  wras 
next  best  to  a  convent;  Mr.  Barrymore  was  nice  to  her  dog;  Sir 
Ralph  and  the  Prince  were  both  nice  to  Mamma,  and  Breakfast 
(I  spell  it  with  a  capital  to  make  it  more  important)  was  nice  to 
the  poor  little  girl  who  would  have  had  nobody  to  play  with,  if 
each  one  had  n't  been  a  dancing  doll  of  hers  without  realizing  it. 

The  monk  would  n't  charge  us  a  cent  for  our  board,  so  we  had 
unconsciously  been  paying  him  a  visit  all  the  time,  though  pay 
ing  nothing  else,  and  the  Prince  had  actually  found  fault  with  the 
coffee ! 

However,  Sir  Ralph  gave  him  a  donation  for  the  charities  of 
the  house,  which  he  accepted,  so  we  could  bid  him  good-bye 
without  feeling  like  tramps  who  had  stolen  a  lodging  in  some 
body's  barn. 

As  our  automobile  had  to  drag  the  Prince's,  and  it  appeared 
that  Tenda  was  less  than  three  miles  away,  Maida  and  I  decided 
to  walk.  Sir  Ralph  walked  with  us,  and  the  Prince  looked  as  if  he 
would  like  to,  but  after  our  talk  before  breakfast,  he  naturally 
felt  that  his  place  was  by  the  side  of  Mamma.  She  comes  down 
two  inches  in  common-sense  walking  shoes,  so  of  course  hills  are 
not  for  her,  now  that  she  's  trying  to  be  as  beautiful  as  she  feels ; 
but  the  Prince  persuaded  her  to  sit  in  the  tonneau  of  his  car,  as  it 
crawled  up  the  steep  white  road  behind  Mr.  Barrymore  and  the 
Panhard,  so  slowly  that  he  could  pace  beside  her.  Sir  Ralph 
talked  to  Maida,  as  we  three  trailed  after  the  two  motors,  and  I 
began  to  wonder  if  I  had  n't  been  a  little  too  strenuous  in  making 
the  Prince  entirely  over  to  Mamma. 


A   CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS  109 

Not  that  I  wanted  him  personally,  but  I  did  want  some  one  to 
want  me,  so  presently  I  pretended  to  be  tired,  and  running  after 
the  toiling  cars,  asked  Mr.  Barrymore  whether  my  weight  would 
make  much  difference  if  I  sat  by  him. 

"No  more  than  a  feather,"  said  he,  with  such  a  delightful 
smile  that  I  wished  myself  back  at  seventeen  again,  so  that  he 
might  not  talk  "  down  "  to  me  in  that  condescending,  uncomfort 
able  way  that  grown-ups  think  themselves  obliged  to  use  when 
they  're  entertaining  children.  If  he  had  only  known  it,  I  should 
have  been  quite  equal  to  entertaining  him;  but  I  was  a  victim  to 
my  pigtails  and  six  inches  of  black  silk  stocking. 
"  Do  you  like  motoring  ?  "  he  asked,  conscientiously. 
"  Yes,"  said  I.  "  And  it  is  a  fine  day.  And  I  would  rather  travel 
than  go  to  school.  And  I  admire  Europe  almost  as  much  as  Amer 
ica.  So  you  need  n't  bother  about  asking  me  those  questions.  You 
can  begin  right  now  with  something  you  would  really  like  to 
ask." 

He  laughed.  "As  you  're  so  fastidious,  I  'd  better  consider  a 
little,"  he  said. 

"  Maybe  it  would  save  time  if  I  should  suggest  some  subjects," 
said  I,  "  for  I  suppose  we  '11  be  at  Tenda  soon,  even  though  the 
Prince's  car  is  as  big  as  a  house,  and  this  hill  is  as  steep  as  the 
side  of  one.  Would  you  like  to  ask  me  about  Mamma's  Past  ?  " 
"  Good  gracious,  what  do  you  take  me  for  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Barrymore. 

"  I  have  n't  decided  yet,"  I  replied,  "  though  the  Prince  has 
talked  to  me  quite  a  good  deal  about  you." 

"  Has  he,  indeed  ?  What  does  he  know  about  me  ?  "  and  our 
magnificent  chauffeur  turned  suddenly  so  red  under  his  nice  dark 
skin,  that  I  could  n't  help  wondering  if,  by  any  chance,  the  Prince 
were  the  least  little  bit  right  about  his  being  an  adventurer.  I  al 
most  hoped  he  was,  for  it  would  make  things  so  much  more  ro 
mantic.  I  felt  like  saying,  "  Don't  mind  me,  my  dear  young  sir.  If 
you  've  anything  to  conceal  about  yourself,  I  shall  like  you  all  the 
better.  But  what  I  really  did  say  was  that  the  Prince  seemed 


110  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

much  more  interested  in  people's  Pasts  than  he  —  Mr.  Barry- 
more  —  appeared  to  be. 

"My  future  is  more  interesting  to  me  than  my  own  past,  or 
any  one  else's,"  he  retorted.  But  I  thought  that  he  looked  a  little 
troubled,  as  if  he  were  racking  his  brain  for  what  the  Prince  could 
have  let  out,  and  was  too  proud  or  obstinate  to  ask. 

"  You  are  selfish,"  I  said.  "  Then  there  's  no  use  my  trying  to 
make  this  ride  pleasant  for  you,  by  telling  you  anecdotes  of  my 
past  —  or  Maida's." 

At  this  his  profile  changed.  I  can't  say  his  "  face  "  because  he 
was  steering  a  great  deal  more  than  was  flattering  to  me,  or  nec 
essary  in  going  up  hill.  Would  the  fish  bite  at  that  last  tempting 
morsel  of  bait  ?  I  wondered.  The  Prince  would  have  snapped  at 
it ;  but  though  Mr.  Barrymore's  title  is  only  that  of  chauffeur,  he 
is  more  of  a  gentleman  in  his  little  finger  than  the  Prince  in  his 
whole  body.  He  may  be  an  adventurer,  but  anyhow  he  is  n't  the 
kind  who  pumps  naughty  little  girls  about  their  grown-up  rela 
tions'  affairs. 

"  I  am  only  concerned  with  yours  and  Miss  Destrey's  present/' 
he  said  after  a  minute. 

"  But  the  present  so  soon  becomes  the  past,  does  n't  it  ? 
There  's  never  more  than  just  a  minute  of  the  present,  really,  if 
you  come  to  look  at  it  in  that  way;  all  the  rest  is  past  and  future." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  You  've  got  more  future 
than  any  of  the  party." 

"And  poor  Maida  has  less." 

He  forgot  about  his  old  steering-wheel  for  part  of  a  second,  arid 
gave  me  such  a  glance  that  I  knew  I  had  him  on  my  hook  this 
time. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  asked,  quite  sharply. 

"  Oh,  you  are  interested  in  somebody's  future  beside  your  own 
then?" 

"  Who  could  help  being  —  in  hers  ?  " 

"  You  look  as  if  you  thought  I  meant  she  was  dying  of  a  de 
cline,"  said  L  "It  is  n't  quite  as  bad  as  that,  but  —  well,  beauti- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS  111 

ful  as  Maida  is  I  would  n't  change  places  with  her,  unless  I  could 
change  souls  as  well.  It  would  be  a  good  deal  better  for  Maida  in 
this  world  if  she  could  have  mine,  though  just  the  opposite  in  the 
next." 

"  Such  talk  clouds  the  sunshine,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  "  even 
for  a  stranger  like  me,  when  you  prophesy  gloomy  mysteries  for 
one  who  deserves  only  happiness.  You  said  something  of  the  sort 
to  Moray  yesterday.  He  told  me,  but  I  was  in  hope  that  you  had 
been  joking." 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  But  I  suppose  Maida  does  n't  think  the  mys 
teries  gloomy,  or  she  would  n't  '  embrace '  them  —  if  that 's  the 
right  word  for  it.  Mamma  and  I  imagined  that  coming  to  Europe 
would  make  her  see  differently  perhaps,  but  it  had  n't  the  last 
time  I  asked  her.  She  thought  Paris  lots  of  fun,  but  all  the  same 
she  was  homesick  for  the  stupid  old  convent  where  she  was 
brought  up,  and  which  she  is  going  to  let  swallow  her  up  in  a 
year." 

"  Good  Heavens,  how  terrible ! "  exclaimed  our  chauffeur,  look 
ing  tragically  handsome.  "  Can  nothing  be  done  to  save  her  ? 
Could  n't  you  and  your  mother  induce  her  to  change  her 
mind  ?  " 

"  We  Ve  tried,"  said  I.  "  She  saw  a  lot  of  society  in  Paris 
and  when  we  were  at  Cap  Martin,  but  it  gave  her  the  sensation  of 
having  made  a  whole  meal  on  candy.  Mamma  has  the  idea  of  be 
ing  presented  to  your  Queen  Alexandra  next  spring,  if  she  can 
manage  it,  and  she  told  Maida  that,  if  she  'd  tack  on  a  little  piece 
to  her  year  of  travel,  she  might  be  done  too,  at  the  same  time. 
But  Maida  did  n't  seem  to  care  particularly  about  it ;  and  the 
society  novels  that  Mamma  loves  don't  interest  her  a  bit.  Her 
favourite  authors  are  Shakspere  and  Thomas  Hardy,  and  she 
reads  Cooper  and  Sir  Walter  Scott.  So  what  can  you  do  with  a 
girl  like  that  ? " 

"  There  are  other  things  in  life  besides  society." 

"  Mamma  does  n't  think  so.  I  guess  we  've  both  done  all  we 
can.  I  'm  afraid  poor  Maida  's  doomed.  But  there  's  one  com- 


MY   FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

fort;  she  '11  look  perfectly  beautiful  in  the  white  robe  and  veil 
that  her  Sisterhood  wears." 

Mr.  Barrymore  gave  a  sort  of  groan.  "  What  a  vocation  for  a 
girl  like  that ! "  he  muttered,  more  to  himself  than  to  me,  I  imag 
ine.  "  Something  desperate  ought  to  be  done." 

"  You  might  try  to  influence  her,"  I  said.  "  Not  that  I  think 
it 's  likely  you  could.  But  there  's  no  harm  in  trying." 

He  did  n't  answer,  but  his  face  was  as  grave  as  if  I  had  just  in 
vited  him  to  a  funeral,  and  as  even  Job  could  n't  have  kept  my 
features  from  playing  (why  should  n't  features  play,  if  they  can 
work  ?),  I  hastily  sought  the  first  excuse  for  laughter  I  could  find 
lying  about  loose. 

"  Oh,  how  funny  I "  I  exclaimed.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha,  how  funny  I " 

"  What  is  funny  ?  "  drearily  demanded  our  chauffeur. 

"  Why,  that  queer  little  grey-brown  town  we  're  coming  to.  It 
looks  for  all  the  world  like  an  exhibition  of  patent  beehives  at  a 
country  fair." 

"  That  is  Tenda,"  volunteered  Mr.  Barrymore,  still  plunged  in 
the  depths  of  gloom.  "  Your  unfortunate  namesake,  poor  Bea 
trice  di  Tenda,  would  have  been  surprised  to  hear  such  a  simile 
applied  to  her  native  town." 

"  Who  was  she  ?  "  I  felt  bound  to  inquire. 

"  I  was  telling  Miss  Destrey  about  her  yesterday.  She  seemed 
interested.  Miss  Destrey  is  very  fond  of  history,  is  n't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  I  'm  tired  talking  of  her  now.  I  want  to  hear  about 
the  other  Beatrice.  I  suppose,  if  she  was  Italian,  she  was  Bice 
too;  but  I  'm  sure  her  friends  never  made  her  rhyme  with  mice." 

"  Her  husband  made  her  rhyme  with  murder.  Did  you  never 
hear  of  the  opera  of  Beatrice  di  Tenda  ?  Her  story  is  one  of  the 
most  romantic  tragedies  in  history.  Well,  there  she  was  born,  and 
there  she  lived  as  a  beautiful  young  woman  in  that  old  castle 
whose  ruined  tower  soars  so  high  above  your  collection  of  bee 
hives.  When  she  was  in  her  gentle  prime  of  beauty,  the  ferocious 
Duke  Filippo  Maria  Visconti  came  riding  here  from  Milan  to 
court  the  sweetest  lady  of  her  day.  She  did  n't  care  for  him,  of 


A   CHAPTER  OF  REVELATIONS  113 

course,  but  young  women  of  high  rank  had  less  choice  in  those 
times  than  they  have  in  these,  and  that  was  the  way  all  the  mis 
chief  began.  She  did  love  somebody  else,  and  the  wicked  Duke 
starved  her  to  death  in  the  tower  of  another  old  castle.  When  we 
get  to  Pa  via,  which  we  shall  pass  on  the  way  to  Milan,  I  '11  show 
you  and  Miss  Destrey  where  your  namesake  lived  when  she  was 
a  duchess,  and  died  when  her  duke  would  have  her  for  a  duchess 
no  more,  but  wanted  somebody  else.  Poor  Beatrice,  I  wonder  if 
her  spirit  has  ever  been  present  at  the  performance  of  the  opera, 
and  whether  she  approved." 

"  I  hope  she  came  with  the  man  she  loved,  and  sat  in  a  box, 
and  that  the  duke  was  down  in  —  in  — 

"  The  pit,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  laughing,  and  giving  a  glance 
back  over  his  shoulder  for  Maida  and  Sir  Ralph,  as  he  stopped 
the  car  in  front  of  a  machinist's  place.  "  Here  we  are,  Joseph,"  he 
called  to  the  Prince's  chauffeur,  who  was  steering  the  broken  car. 
"  Now,  how  soon  do  you  expect  to  finish  your  job  ?  " 

"With  proper  tools,  it  should  be  no  more  than  an  hour's 
work,"  said  Joseph,  jumping  down. 

"  An  hour  ?  Why,  I  should  have  thought  three  would  be  more 
like  it,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Barrymore. 

"  I  am  confident  that  I  can  do  it  in  one  all  little  hour,"  reiter 
ated  Joseph,  and  for  once  the  Prince  regarded  him  benignly. 

"  Whatever  Joseph's  faults,  he  is  an  excellent  mechanician," 
said  His  Highness.  "  I  did  not  intend  to  ask  that  you  would  wait, 
but  if  my  car  can  be  ready  so  soon,  perhaps  you  will  have  pity 
upon  me,  Countess,  and  let  me  escort  you  to  the  castle  while  Jo 
seph  is  working." 

"  Castle  ?  I  don't  see  any  castle,"  returned  Mamma,  gazing 
around. 

"  What 's  left  of  it  looks  more  like  a  walking-stick  than  a  cas 
tle,"  said  I,  pointing  up  to  the  tall,  tapering  finger  of  broken 
stone  that  almost  touched  the  clouds. 

"  Is  Mamma's  new  property  in  Dalmatia  as  well  perserved  as 
that,  Prince  ?  " 


114  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"You  have  always  a  joke  ready,  little  Miss  Beechy."  His  lips 
smiled ;  but  his  eyes  boxed  my  ears.  Almost  I  felt  them  tingle;  and 
suddenly  I  said  to  myself,  "  Good  gracious,  Beechy  Kidder,  what 
if  your  dolls  should  take  to  playing  the  game  their  own  way,  in 
spite  of  you,  now  you  've  set  them  going !  Where  would  you  be 
then,  I  'd  like  to  know  ?  "  And  a  horrid  creep  ran  down  my  spine, 
at  the  thought  of  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  as  a  step-father.  Maybe 
he  would  shut  me  up  in  a  tower  and  starve  me  to  death,  as  the 
wicked  duke  did  with  the  other  Beatrice ;  and  it  would  n't  com 
fort  me  a  bit  if  some  one  wrote  an  opera  about  my  sufferings. 
But  if  he  thinks  he  '11  really  get  Mamma,  he  little  knows  Me, 
that 's  all.  We  shall  see  what  we  shall  see. 


X 

A  CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS 

THE  hotel  at  Tenda  is  apparently  the  one  new  thing  in  the* 
town,  and  it  is  new  enough  to  more  than  make  up  for  the- 
oldness  of  everything  else.  We  went  there  to  grumble  be 
cause,  after  we  had  done  the  ruined  castle  (and  it  had 
done  Mamma),  Joseph's  "  all  little  "  hour  threatened  to  lengthen, 
itself  into  at  lest  two  of  ordinary  size. 

Mr.  Barrymore's  eyebrows  said,  "I  told  you  so,"  but  his 
tongue  said  nothing,  which  was  nice  of  it ;  and  the  Prince  did  all 
the  complaining  as  we  sat  on  perfectly  new  chairs,  in  a  perfectly 
new  parlour,  with  a  smell  of  perfectly  new  plaster  in  the  air,  and 
plu-perfectly  old  newspapers  on  the  table.  According  to  him, 
Joseph  was  an  absolutely  unique  villain,  with  a  combination  of 
deceit,  treachery,  procrastination,  laziness,  and  stupidity  mixed, 
with  low  cunning,  such  as  could  not  be  paralleled  in  the  history 
of  motor-men;  and  it  was  finally  Mr.  Barrymore  who  defended 
the  poor  absent  wretch. 

"  Really,  you  know,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  think  he  's  worse  than 
other  chauffeurs.  Curiously  enough,  the  whole  tribe  seems  to  be 
alike  in  several  characteristics,  and  it  would  be  an  interesting 
study  in  motor  lore  to  discover  whether  they  've  all  —  by  a  sin 
gular  coincidence  —  been  born  with  those  peculiarities,  whether 
they  've  been  thrust  upon  them,  or  whether  they  've  achieved 
them!" 

"Joseph  never  achieved  anything,"  broke  in  the  Prince. 

"That  disposes  of  one  point  of  view,  then,"  went  on  Mr.  Bar 
rymore.  "Anyhow,  he  's  cut  on  an  approved  pattern.  All  the  pro- 

115 


116  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

fessional  chauffeurs  I  ever  met. have  been  utterly  unable  to  calcu 
late  time  or  provide  for  future  emergencies.  They  're  pessimists 
at  the  moment  of  an  accident,  and  optimists  afterwards  —  until 
they  find  out  their  mistakes  by  gloomy  experience,  which,  how 
ever,  seldom  teaches  them  anything." 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  superior  way  he  has, 
and  drawled,  "  Well,  you  are  better  qualified  to  judge  the  broth 
erhood,  than  the  rest  of  us,  at  all  events,  my  dear  sir." 

Mr.  Barrymore  got  rather  red,  but  he  only  laughed  and  an 
swered,  "  Yes,  that 's  why  I  spoke  in  Joseph's  defence.  A  fellow- 
feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind, "  while  Maida  looked  as  if  she 
would  like  to  set  the  new  dog  at  His  Highness. 

The  fact  is  she  has  got  into  her  head  that  our  handsome 
chauffeur  is  very  unfortunate ;  and  when  Maida  is  sorry  for  any 
body  or  anything  she  '11  stick  by  that  creature  —  man,  woman, 
or  dog  —  through  thick  and  thin.  And  funnier  still,  he  is  sorry  for 
her.  Well,  it  all  comes  into  my  game  of  dolls.  But  I  'm  not  sure 
that  I  shan't  fall  in  love  with  him  myself,  and  want  to  keep  him 
up  my  sleeve  against  the  time  when  I  'm  seventeen  again. 

The  hotel  clock  was  so  new  that  it  had  n't  learned  to  go  yet; 
and  I  never  saw  people  glance  at  their  watches  so  much,  even  in 
the  midst  of  a  long  sermon,  as  we  did,  sitting  on  those  new  chairs 
in  that  new  parlour.  At  last  Sir  Ralph  Moray  proposed  that  we 
should  have  lunch ;  and  we  had  it,  with  delicious  trout  as  new  as 
the  dish  on  which  they  came  frizzling  to  the  table.  While  we  were 
eating  them  Joseph  was  announced,  and  was  ordered  to  report 
himself  in  the  dining-room.  He  seemed  quite  cheerful  —  for 
him. 

"  I  came  to  tell  Your  Highness  that  I  shall  be  able  to  finish  in 
time  to  start  by  four  o'clock  this  afternoon,"  said  he  compla 
cently. 

Up  sprang  the  Prince  in  a  rage  and  began  to  shout  French 
things  which  must  have  been  shocking,  for  Sir  Ralph  and  Mr. 
Barrymore  both  scowled  at  him  till  he  superficially  calmed  down. 

Joseph  had  either  forgotten  that  he  'd  promised  to  be  ready 


A  CHAPTER   OF  THRILLS  117 

hours  ago,  or  else  he  did  n't  see  why  we  should  attach  the  least 
importance  to  a  tiny  discrepancy  like  that. 

In  the  midst  of  the  argument,  while  the  Prince's  language  got 
hot  and  his  fish  cold,  Mr.  Barrymore  turned  to  Mamma  and  pro 
posed  that  we  should  start  directly  after  lunch,  as  most  probably 
the  Prince  would  n't  get  off  till  next  morning. 

The  prospect  of  staying  all  night  at  Tenda,  with  nothing  to  do 
but  sit  on  the  new  chairs  till  bed  time,  was  too  much  even  for 
Mamma's  wish  to  please  Titled  Opportunity  Number  One.  She 
nervously  elected  to  go  on  with  Titled  Opportunity  Number  Two 
and  his  friend. 

I  thought  that  the  Prince  would  be  plunged  in  gloom  by 
this  decision,  even  if  he  did  n't  try  to  break  it.  To  my 
surprise,  however,  he  not  only  made  no  objection,  but  en 
couraged  the  idea.  He  would  n't  wish  to  sacrifice  us  on  the 
altar  of  his  misfortune,  he  said.  We  must  go  on,  dine 
at  Cuneo,  and  he  would  meet  us  at  the  hotel  there,  which 
he  could  easily  do,  as,  when  once  his  automobile  was  itself 
again,  it  would  travel  at  more  than  twice  the  speed  of  ours. 
"  Especially  up  hill,"  he  added.  "  The  landlord  has  told  Joseph 
that  beyond  Tenda  the  ascent  is  stupendous,  nothing  less  than 
Alpine.  You  will  be  obliged  to  travel  at  a  snail's  pace,  even  if 
you  reach  the  top  without  every  passenger  walking  up  the  hill, 
which  mounts,  curve  after  curve,  for  miles." 

Poor  Mamma's  face  fell  several  inches.  She  had  had  enough 
walking  up  hill  for  one  day,  as  the  Prince  knew  well,  and  no 
doubt  he  enjoyed  the  chance  of  disgusting  her  with  motoring  in 
other  people's  automobiles.  But  Mr.  Barrymore's  expression 
would  have  put  spirit  into  a  mock  turtle.  "  I  know  what  the  gra 
dients  are,"  he  said,  "  and  what  we  can  do.  To  show  that  I  'm  an 
exception  which  proves  the  rule  I  laid  down  for  chauffeurs,  I  'm 
not  making  any  experiments  without  counting  the  cost.  I  hope 
we  shall  get  to  Cuneo  by  tea-time,  not  dinner-time,  and  push  on 
to  Alessandria  as  a  better  stopping-place  for  the  night." 

"Very  well.  In  any  case  I  shall  expect  to  catch  you  up  at 


118  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

Cuneo,"  said  the  Prince,  "  and  so,  if  you  please,  we  will  make  a 
rendezvous  at  a  certain  hotel." 

Baedeker  was  produced,  a  hotel  was  selected,  and  half  an  hour 
later  His  Highness  was  bidding  us  au  revoir,  as  we  settled  our 
selves  in  our  luggage-wreathed  car,  to  leave  the  town  of  Bea 
trice  and  the  dominating,  file-on-end  shaped  ruin. 

We  had  all  been  up  so  early  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  day  were 
growing  old,  but  really  it  was  only  one  o'clock,  for  we  'd  lunched 
at  twelve,  and  all  the  afternoon  was  before  us  in  which  to  do,  or 
not  to  do,  our  great  climbing  act. 

Just  to  see  how  our  gorgeous  chauffeur  would  look,  I  asked  if  I 
might  n't  sit  on  the  front  seat  for  a  change,  because  my  feet  had 
gone  to  sleep  in  the  tonneau  yesterday.  I  half-expected  that  he 
would  shuffle  round  for  an  excuse  to  keep  Maida;  but  with  an 
immovable  face  he  said  that  was  for  the  three  ladies  to  arrange. 
Of  course,  Maida  must  have  wanted  to  be  in  front,  but  she  is  so 
horribly  unselfish  that  she  glories  in  sacrificing  herself,  so  she 
gave  up  as  meekly  as  if  she  had  been  a  lady's-maid,  or  a  dor 
mouse,  and  naturally  I  felt  a  little  brute ;  but  I  usually  do  feel  a 
brute  with  Maida ;  she  's  so  much  better  than  any  one  I  ever  saw 
that  I  can't  help  imposing  on  her,  and  neither  can  Mamma.  It 's  a 
waste  of  good  material  being  so  awfully  pretty  as  Maida,  if  you're 
never  going  to  do  anything  for  people  to  forgive. 

Yesterday  we  had  been  too  hot  in  our  motor-coats  till  night 
came  on.  To-day,  when  we  had  left  Tenda  a  little  way  below,  we 
opened  our  shawl-straps  and  got  out  our  fur  stoles. 

At  first  I  thought  that  the  Prince  had  only  been  trying  to 
frighten  us,  and  make  us  wish  we  were  in  a  big  car  like  his,  for 
the  road  went  curving  up  as  gracefully  and  easily  as  a  swan 
makes  tracks  in  the  water,  and  our  automobile  hummed  cheer 
fully  to  itself,  forging  steadily  up.  It  was  so  nice  having  nothing 
to  drag  that,  by  comparison  with  yesterday  afternoon,  we  moved 
like  a  ship  under  full  sail ;  but  suddenly  the  road  reared  up  on  its 
hind  feet  and  stood  almost  erect,  as  though  it  had  been  fright 
ened  by  the  huge  snow-capped  mountains  that  all  at  once  crowd- 


A   CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS  119 

ed  round  us.  An  icy  wind  rushed  down  from  the  tops  of  the  great 
white  towers,  as  if  with  the  swooping  wings  of  a  giant  bird,  and  it 
took  our  car's  breath  away. 

Instead  of  humming  it  began  to  pant,  and  I  noticed  the  differ 
ence  at  once.  If  I  'd  been  Maida,  I  should  probably  have  been  too 
polite  to  put  questions  about  the  thing's  behaviour,  for  fear  Mr. 
Barrymore  might  think  I  had  n't  proper  confidence  in  him;  but 
being  Beechy,  with  no  convictions  to  live  up  to,  I  promptly  asked 
if  anything  was  the  matter. 

"  The  car  's  only  trying  to  tell  me  that  she  can't  manage  to 
spurt  up  on  third  speed  any  more,"  said  he.  "  I  shall  put  on  the 
second,  and  you  '11  hear  what  a  relief  it  gives  to  the  motor." 

It  certainly  was  as  if  the  automobile  had  gulped  down  a  stimu 
lant,  and  revived  in  a  second.  But  as  we  turned  a  shoulder  of  the 
mountain,  coming  in  sight  of  a  railroad  depot,  a  high  embank 
ment,  and  a  monstrous  wall  of  mountain  with  the  sky  for  a  ceil 
ing,  I  could  n't  help  giving  a  little  squeak. 

"  Is  that  a  road  ?  "  I  asked,  pointing  up  to  a  network  like  a 
skein  of  silk  twisted  in  a  hundred  zigzags  across  the  face  of  the 
mountain  from  bottom  to  top.  "  Why,  it 's  like  the  way  up  Jack's 
beanstalk.  No  sane  automobile  could  do  it." 

"  Some  could,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  "  but  I  dare  say  it 's 
lucky  for  us  that  ours  has  n't  got  to.  It 's  the  old  road,  only  used 
now  to  communicate  with  that  desolate  fortress  you  see  on  the 
top  shelf  of  the  mountain,  standing  up  there  on  the  sky-line  like 
the  ark  on  Ararat.  All  this  country  is  tremendously  fortified  by 
both  the  French  and  Italians,  in  case  they  should  ever  come  to 
loggerheads.  Above  us  somewhere  is  a  long  tunnel  burrowing 
into  the  col,  and  the  new  road  runs  through  that  instead  of  over 
the  summit." 

"Bump!"  went  the  car,  as  he  finished  his  explanation,  and 
then  we  began  to  wade  jerkily  through  a  thick  layer  of  loose 
stones  that  had  been  spread  over  the  road  like  hard  butter  over 
stale  bread. 

"  Le  corse  "  (that  is  what  our  landlord  had  called  the  cruel  wind 


120  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

sweeping  down  from  the  snow  mountains)  was  hurling  itself  into 
our  faces ;  our  fat  rubber  tyres  were  bouncing  over  the  stones  like 
baseballs,  and  I  'd  never  been  so  uncomfortable  nor  so  perfectly 
happy  in  my  life.  I  wished  I  were  a  cat,  so  that  I  could  purr,  for 
purring  has  always  struck  me  as  the  most  thorough  way  of  ex 
pressing  satisfaction.  When  other  people  are  in  automobiles,  and 
you  are  walking  or  jogging  past  with  a  pony,  you  glare  and  think 
what  insufferable  vehicles  they  are ;  but  when  you  're  spinning,  or 
even  jolting,  along  in  one  of  them  yourself,  then  you  know  that 
there  's  nothing  else  in  the  world  as  well  worth  doing.  I  made  a 
remark  like  that  to  Mr.  Barrymore,  and  he  gave  me  such  a 
friendly,  appreciative  look  as  he  said,  "  Have  you  discovered  all 
this  already  ?  "  that  I  decided  at  once  to  eat  my  heart  out  with  a 
vain  love  for  him. 

I  have  n't  been  really  in  love  before  since  I  was  ten ;  so  the  sen 
sation  was  quite  exciting,  like  picking  up  a  lovely  jewel  on  the 
street,  which  you  are  n't  sure  won't  be  claimed  by  somebody  else. 
I  was  trying  to  think  what  else  I  could  say  to  fascinate  him  when 
the  car  lost  its  breath  again,  and  —  "  r-r-retch  "  went  in  another 
speed. 

"  It 's  our  '  first  and  last,' "  said  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  Good  old 
girl,  she  's  going  to  do  it  all  right,  though  there  's  many  a  twenty- 
four  horse-power  car  that  would  n't  rise  to  it.  By  Jove,  this  is  a 
road  —  and  a  half.  I  believe,  Ralph,  that  you  and  I  had  better 
jump  off  and  ease  her  a  bit." 

Mamma  squeaked,  and  begged  our  chauffeur  not  to  leave  us  to 
go  up  by  ourselves,  or  we  should  be  over  the  awful  precipice  in  an 
instant.  But  Mr.  Barrymore  explained  that  he  was  n't  deserting 
the  ship;  and  he  walked  quickly  along  by  the  side  of  the  car, 
through  the  bed  of  sharp  stones,  keeping  his  hand  always  on 
the  steering-wheel  like  a  pilot  guiding  a  vessel  among  hidden 
rocks. 

Maida  would  have  been  out  too,  in  a  flash,  if  Mr.  Barrymore 
had  let  her,  but  he  told  us  all  to  sit  still,  so  wejiid,  happy  (judg 
ing  the  others  by  myself)  in  obeying  him. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS  121 

I  had  n't  supposed  there  could  be  such  a  road  as  this.  If  one 
had  n't  had  hot  and  cold  creeps  in  one's  toes  for  fear  the  "  good 
old  girl "  would  slide  back  down  hill  and  vault  into  space  with  us 
in  her  lap,  one  would  have  been  struck  dumb  with  admiration  of 
its  magnificence.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  were  all  three  dumb  as 
mutes,  but  it  was  n't  only  admiration  that  paralysed  my  tongue 
or  Mamma's,  I  know,  whatever  caused  the  phenomenon  with 
Maida,  who  has  no  future  worth  clinging  to. 

As  we  toiled  up,  in  spite  of  the  stones  that  did  their  best  to  keep 
us  back,  we  simply  hung  on  the  breathing  of  the  motor,  as  Mam 
ma  used  to  on  mine  when  I  was  small  and  indulged  in  croup. 
When  she  gasped,  we  gasped  too ;  when  she  seemed  to  falter,  we 
involuntarily  strained  as  if  the  working  of  our  muscles  could  aid 
hers.  All  our  bodies  sympathized  with  the  efforts  of  her  body, 
which  she  was  making  for  our  sakes,  dragging  us  up,  up,  into 
wonderful  white,  shining  spaces  where  it  seemed  that  summer 
never  had  been  and  never  would  dare  to  come. 

The  twisted  skein  of  silk  we  had  looked  up  to  was  turning  into 
a  coil  of  rope  now,  stretched  taut  and  sharp  from  zig  to  zag,  and 
on  from  zag  to  zig  again.  Below,  when  we  dared  to  look  back  and 
down,  the  coil  of  rope  lay  looser,  curled  on  itself.  The  mountain- 
top  crowned  by  the  fort  (which  as  Mr.  Barrymore  said,  did  cer 
tainly  look  like  the  ark  on  Ararat  when  all  the  rest  of  creation  was 
swept  off  the  globe)  did  n't  appear  so  dimly  remote  now.  We  were 
coming  almost  into  friendly  relations  with  it,  and  with  neigh 
bouring  mountains  whose  summits  had  seemed,  a  little  while  ago, 
as  far  away  as  Kingdom  Come. 

I  began  to  feel  at  last  as  if  I  could  speak  without  danger  of  giv 
ing  the  motor  palpitation  of  the  heart.  "  What  are  you  thinking 
of,  Maida  ?  "  I  almost  whispered. 

"  Oh! "  she  answered  with  a  start,  as  if  I  'd  waked  her  out  of  a 
dream.  "  I  was  thinking,  what  if,  while  we  're  still  in  this  world 
we  could  see  heaven,  a  far,  shining  city  on  a  mountain-top 
like  one  of  these.  How  much  harder  we  would  strive  after  worthi 
ness  if  we  saw  the  place  always  with  our  bodily  eyes ;  how  much 


122  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

harder  we  'd  try ;  and  how  much  less  credit  it  would  be  for  those 
who  succeeded." 

"What  are  you  thinking  of,  Mamma?"  I  asked.  "Did  the 
big  mountains  give  you  a  thought  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  did,"  said  she,  "  but  I  'm  afraid  it  was  more  worldly 
than  Maida's.  I  was  saying  to  myself,  the  difference  in  being 
down  far  below,  where  we  were,  and  high  up  as  we  are  now, 
is  like  our  old  life  in  Denver  and  our  life  here."  As  she  went  on  to 
expound  her  parable,  she  lowered  her  voice,  so  that  Sir  Ralph 
and  Mr.  Barrymore,  walking,  could  n't  catch  a  word.  "  In  those 
days  at  home,  it  would  have  seemed  as  impossible  that  we  could 
have  princes  and  baronets  and  —  and  such  people  for  our  most 
intimate  friends,  as  it  looked  a  little  while  ago  for  us  to  get  near 
that  fort  up  there,  or  the  mountain -tops.  Yet  we  are,  in — in  every 
sense  of  the  word,  getting  there" 

The  thoughts  which  the  mountains  had  put  into  Maida's 
golden  head  and  Mamma's  (now)  auburn  one  were  so  character 
istic  of  the  heads  themselves  that  I  chuckled  with  glee,  and  our 
two  men  glanced  round  questioningly.  But  in  accordance  with 
Mamma's  simile,  to  explain  to  them  would  have  been  like  ex 
plaining  to  the  mountains  themselves. 

By  and  by.  though  still  going  up,  we  were  on  snow  level.  Snow 
lay  white  as  Maida's  thoughts  on  either  side  of  the  steep  road, 
but  le  corse  had  run  shrieking  farther  down  the  mountain,  and 
was  not  at  home  in  its  own  high  house.  We  were  less  cold  than  we 
had  been ;  and  when  presently  the  worst  of  the  zigzags  were  past 
and  a  great  black  tunnel-mouth  in  sight  to  show  we  'd  reached 
the  col,  the  sun  was  almost  warm.  A  few  moments  more,  and  (on 
our  second  best  speed,  with  all  five  on  board)  we  had  shot  into 
that  great  black  mouth. 

I  always  thought  that  we  had  the  longest  and  biggest  of  every 
thing  in  our  country,  but  I  never  heard  of  a  tunnel  like  this  in 
America. 

It  was  the  queerest  thing  to  look  into  I  ever  saw. 

The  lamps  of  our  automobile  which  Mr.  Barrymore  had 


A   CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS  123 

stopped  to  light  before  plunging  in,  showed  us  a  long,  long, 
straight  passage  cut  through  the  mountain,  with  an  oval  roof 
arched  like  an  egg.  Except  for  a  few  yards  ahead,  where  the  way 
was  lit  up  and  the  arch  of  close-set  stones  glimmered  grey,  the 
blackness  would  have  been  unbroken  had  it  not  been  for  the 
tunnel-lights.  They  went  on  and  on  in  a  sparkling  line  as  far  as 
our  eyes  could  reach ;  and  if  the  most  famous  whale  in  the  world 
had  had  a  spine  made  of  diamonds,  Jonah  would  have  got  much 
the  same  effect  that  we  did  as  he  wandered  about  in  the  dark  try 
ing  to  get  his  bearings. 

It  was  only  the  most  distant  electric  lamps  that  looked  as  if  they 
were  diamonds  stuck  close  together  along  the  roof.  The  near 
ones  were  balls  of  light  under  swaying  umbrellas  of  ink-black 
shadow;  and  sometimes  we  would  flash  past  great  sharp  stalac 
tites,  which  were,  as  Maida  said,  like  Titanesses'  hatpins  stuck 
through  from  the  top  of  the  mountain. 

At  first  the  tunnel  road  was  inches  thick  with  white  dust;  then, 
much  to  our  surprise,  we  ran  into  a  track  of  greasy  mud  which 
made  our  car  waltz  as  it  had  in  the  Roya  valley  close  to  the 
precipice. 

"  It 's  the  water  filtering  in  through  the  holes  your  Titanesses* 
hatpins  have  made  in  their  big  pincushion,"  explained  Mr.  Bar- 
rymore,  who  had  heard  Maida  make  that  remark.  And  the  hate 
ful  creatures  had  so  honeycombed  the  whole  mountain  over  our 
heads,  that  Mamma  and  I  put  up  umbrellas  to  save  ourselves 
from  being  drenched. 

"  What  a  place  this  would  be  for  aa  accident !  Or  —  suppose 
we  met  something  that  objected  to  us ! "  Mamma  shrieked,  her 
voice  all  but  drowned  by  the  reverberation  made  by  our  motor  in 
the  hollow  vault. 

With  that,  as  if  her  words  had  "conjured  it  from  the  vasty 
deep" — to  use  a  quotation  of  Sir  Ralph's  —  something  ap 
peared,  and  it  did  object  to  us  very  much. 

It  was  a  horse,  and  it  gleamed  like  silver  as  our  front  lamp 
pointed  it  out  to  our  startled  eyes  with  a  long,  bright  finger  of  light. 


124  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

He  was  coming  towards  us,  down  the  narrow,  arched  passage, 
walking  on  his  liind  legs,  with  some  one  in  a  cart  behind  him, 
standing  up  and  hitting  him  on  the  head  with  a  whip. 

We  were  not  really  going  very  fast  on  account  of  the  splashy 
mud ;  but  what  with  the  roaring  echo  of  the  motor,  the  dripping 
of  water,  the  narrowness  of  the  tunnel,  the  yapping  of  our  little 
dog,  the  shouts  of  the  man  in  the  cart,  and  the  strangeness  of  the 
picture  ahead — just  like  a  lighted  disc  on  the  screen  of  a  magic 
lantern  —  it  did  seem  as  if  everybody  concerned  must  come  to 
awful  grief  in  about  three  seconds. 

I  don't  know  whether  I  screamed  or  not ;  though  I  know  Mam 
ma  did ;  a  deaf  man  would  have  known  that.  But  the  first  thing  I 
was  really  sure  of  was  that  Mr.  Barrymore  had  not  only  stopped 
the  car  but  the  motor,  had  jumped  down,  and  gone  to  the  horse's 
head. 

He  said  something  quickly  to  the  driver,  which  I  could  n't  un 
derstand,  because  it  was  in  Italian;  but  the  man  did  n't  yell  or 
whip  the  horse  any  more.  Mr.  Barrymore  patted  the  poor  beast, 
and  talked  to  him,  until  he  seemed  tired  of  dancing  about  as  if  he 
were  popcorn  over  a  hot  fire.  Then,  when  he  had  quieted  down, 
and  remembered  that  his  forefeet  were  given  him  to  walk  with 
and  not  to  paw  the  air,  Mr.  Barrymore  led  him  gently  up  to  our 
automobile,  patting  his  neck  all  the  time.  He  snorted  and  quiv 
ered  for  a  minute,  then  smelt  of  what  Mr.  Barrymore  calls  the 
"  bonnet,"  with  the  funniest  expression  of  disgust  and  curiosity. 

I  imagined  the  horse  was  thinking,  "This  is  a  very  nasty 
thing,  but  it  seems  to  belong  to  the  nicest,  kindest  man  I  ever 
met,  so  perhaps  it  is  n't  as  bad  after  all  as  I  thought  at  first." 

The  driver's  scowl  turned  to  a  smile,  as  he  eventually  drove 
by,  we  waiting  till  he  had  got  safely  past. 

"I  think  that  was  real  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Barrymore,"  said 
Mamma,  as  we  went  teuf-teufing  on  again. 

She  is  always  a  little  uneasy  with  him,  because,  though-  he  's  a 
friend  of  Sir  Ralph  Moray's,  he  's  only  a  chauffeur,  and  she  is  n't 
quite  sure  whether  she  ought  n't  to  patronize  him  a  little  to  keep 


A  CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS  125 

up  her  dignity  as  a  Countess.  But  it  was  a  good  sign  that  she 
should  remember  his  name  for  once.  As  for  me,  I  Ve  given  him 
one  for  use  behind  his  back,  which  is  to  make  up  for  his  lack  of  a 
title,  express  his  gorgeousness  and  define  his  profession  all  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  "  Chauffeulier,"  and  I  rather  pride  myself  on  it. 

'*  It  was  only  decent,"  he  answered  Mamma.  "  I  love  horses, 
and  I  've  enough  imagination  to  guess  pretty  well  how  one  feels 
when  he  's  called  upon  to  face  some  unknown  horror,  with  no 
sympathy  from  behind.  It  would  have  been  sheer  brutality  not  to 
stop  motor  and  all  for  that  poor  white  chap.  He  won't  be  as  bad 
next  time;  and  perhaps  his  master  will  have  learned  a  little  com 
mon  sense  too.  All  the  same,  that  kind  of  adventure  spells  de 
lay,  and  I  hope  this  tunnel  is  n't  infested  with  timid  horses. 
Luckily,  the  line  seems  all  clear  ahead/' 

A  few  minutes  more,  and  looking  before  and  after,  we  could 
see  far  away  two  little  oval  pearls  of  daylight,  one  straight  ahead, 
one  straight  behind.  It  was  like  having  one's  foresight  as  good  as 
one's  hindsight;  which  in  real  life,  outside  tunnels,  would  save  a 
lot  of  disasters.  Mr.  Barrymore  explained  that  we  'd  reached 
the  apex  of  two  slopes,  and  now  we  would  be  descending 
gradually. 

It  gave  us  a  shock  to  burst  out  into  the  sunlight  again  by-and- 
by,  but  it  was  a  glorious  shock,  with  a  thrill  as  the  dazzling  white 
mountains  seemed  to  leap  at  our  eyes. 

If  you  speak  of  zigzags  going  up  hill,  ought  n't  you  to  call 
them  zagzigs  going  down  ?  Anyway,  there  they  were,  hundreds 
of  them  apparently,  looking  something  as  a  huge  corkscrew 
might  look  if  it  had  been  laid  on  a  railroad  track  for  a  train  to 
flatten. 

We  began  to  fly  down,  faster  and  faster,  the  motor  making 
no  noise  at  all.  At  each  turn  of  the  corkscrew  it  seemed  to  me 
as  if  we  must  leap  over  into  space,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been 
struck  by  lightning ;  but  always  our  chauffeur  steered  so  as  to  give 
plenty  of  margin  between  our  tyres  and  the  edge  of  the  precipice; 
and  by-and-by  I  was  thoroughly  charged  with  electricity  so  that 


126  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

I  ceased  to  be  actually  afraid.  All  I  felt  was  that  my  soul  was  cov 
ered  with  a  very  thin,  sensitive  skin. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Terrymore,  for  mercy's  sake,  for  heaven' 's 
sake  .  .  .  !"  wailed  Mamma.  "I  don't  feel  able  to  die 
to-day." 

"You  shan't,  if  I  can  help  it,"  answered  Mr.  Barrymore, 
without  looking  round;  but  as  he  never  wears  goggles,  I  could  see 
his  face  plainly  from  my  place  by  his  side,  and  I  thought  it  had 
rather  an  odd,  stern  expression.  I  wondered  whether  he  were 
cross  with  Mamma  for  seeming  to  doubt  his  skill,  or  whether 
something  else  was  the  matter.  But  instead  of  fading  away,  the 
expression  seemed  to  harden.  He  looked  just  as  I  should  think  a 
man  might  look  if  he  were  going  to  fight  in  a  battle.  1  awfully 
wanted  to  ask  if  anything  were  wrong,  but  something  mysteri 
ous  —  a  kind  of  atmosphere  around  him,  like  a  barrier  I  could 
feel  but  not  see  —  would  n't  let  me. 

"I  believe  the  thing  is  broken,  somehow,"  I  said  to  myself; 
and  the  thought  was  so  awful,  when  I  stared  down  at  all  those 
separate  layers  of  precipice  which  we  would  have  to  risk  before 
we  reached  human-level  (if  we  ever  reached  it)  that  my  heart 
pounded  like  a  hammer  in  my  side.  It  was  a  terrible  sensation, 
yet  I  revelled  in  it  with  a  kind  of  desperate  joy;  for  everything  de 
pended  on  the  eye,  and  nerve,  and  hand  of  this  one  man  whom  it 
was  so  thrilling  to  trust. 

Each  time  we  twisted  round  a  corkscrew  I  gave  a  sigh  of  re 
lief;  for  it  was  one  less  peril  to  pass  on  the  way  to  safety. 

"  Do  just  stop  for  a  moment  and  let  us  breathe,"  cried  Mam 
ma;  and  my  suspicions  were  confirmed  by  Mr.  Barrymore's  an 
swer,  thrown  over  his  shoulder.  "  It 's  best  not,  Countess,"  he 
said.  "  I  '11  explain  afterwards." 

Mamma  is  always  ecstatic  for  an  instant  after  any  one  has  ad 
dressed  her  as  "  Countess,"  so  she  did  n't  insist,  and  only  mur 
mured  to  herself,  "  Oh,  why  did  I  leave  my  peaceful  home  ?  "  in  a 
minor  wail  which  showed  me  that  she  was  n't  really  half  as  anx 
ious  as  I  was.  But  if  she  could  have  seen  Mr.  Barrymore's  profile, 


A  CHAPTER  OF  THRILLS  127 

and  had  the  inspiration  to  read  it  as  I  did,  she  would  probably 
have  jumped  out  of  the  automobile  in  full  flight.  Whereupon, 
though  she  might  have  gained  a  crown  to  wear  upon  her  fore 
head,  all  those  on  her  brushes  and  powder-pots,  and  satchels  and 
trunks,  would  have  been  wasted.  Poor  little  Mamma! 

We  plunged  down  below  the  snow-line ;  we  saw  far  beneath  us  a 
wide,  green  valley,  where  other  people,  the  size  of  flies,  were  safe 
if  not  happy.  We  passed  some  barracks,  where  a  lot  of  sturdy  lit 
tle  mountain  soldiers  stopped  bowling  balls  in  a  dull,  stony 
square  to  watch  us  fly  by.  We  frightened  some  mules ;  we  almost 
made  a  horse  faint  away ;  but  the  Chauff eulier  showed  no  desire 
to  stop  and  let  them  admire  our  "  bonnet "  at  close  quarters. 

The  excitement  of  the  drive,  and  my  conviction  that  Mr.  Bar- 
rymore  was  silently  fighting  some  unseen  danger  for  us  all,  filled 
me  with  a  kind  of  intoxication.  I  could  have  screamed;  but  if  I 
had,  it  would  n't  have  been  with  cowardly  fear.  Partly,  perhaps, 
the  strange  exhilaration  came  from  the  beauty  of  the  world  on 
which  we  were  descending  almost  as  if  we  were  falling  from  the 
sky.  I  felt  that  I  could  have  lovely  thoughts  about  it  —  almost 
as  poetical  as  Maida's  —  if  only  I  had  had  time ;  but  as  it  was, 
the  ideas  jostled  each  other  in  my  mind  like  a  crowd  of  people 
rushing  to  catch  a  train. 

From  behind,  I  could  hear  Maida's  voice  from  moment  to 
moment,  as  she  talked  to  Mamma  or  Sir  Ralph,  innocently  un 
suspicious  of  any  hidden  danger. 

"  Is  n't  it  all  wonderful  ?  "  she  was  saying.  "  Day  before  yester 
day  we  left  riotous,  tumultuous  summer  on  the  Riviera;  found 
autumn  in  the  Roya  valley,  chill  and  grim,  though  so  mag 
nificent;  and  came  into  winter  snows  this  morning.  Now  we  Ve 
dropped  down  into  spring.  It  's  like  a  fairy  story  I  read  once, 
about  a  girl  whose  cruel  stepmother  drove  her  from  home  penni 
less,  and  sent  her  into  the  mountains  at  dead  of  night,  telling  her 
never  to  come  back  unless  she  could  bring  an  apronful  of  straw 
berries  for  her  stepsister.  The  poor  girl  wandered  on  and  on  in 
the  dark  in  a  terrible  storm,  until  at  last  she  strayed  to  a  wild 


128  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

mountain-top,  where  the  twelve  Months  lived.  Some  were  old 
men,  wrapped  in  long  cloaks;  some  were  young  and  ardent; 
some  were  laughing  boys.  With  a  stroke  of  his  staff,  each  Month 
could  make  what  he  would  with  the  weather.  Father  January 
had  but  to  wave  his  stick  to  cause  the  snow  to  fall ;  May,  in  pity 
for  the  girl's  tears,  created  a  rose  garden,  while  his  brother's 
snow-wreaths  were  melting;  but  it  was  June  who  finally  under 
stood  what  she  wanted,  and  gave  her  a  bed  of  fragrant  straw 
berries.  I  feel  as  if  we  had  wandered  to  the  house  of  the  Months, 
and  they  were  waving  their  staffs  to  create  miracles  for  us." 

"  It  will  be  a  miracle  if  we  ever  get  out  of  the  house  of  the 
Months  and  into  one  of  our  own,"  I  said  to  myself,  almost  spite 
fully,  for  the  talk  in  the  tonneau  did  seem  frivolous  when  I 
glanced  up  furtively  at  that  tight-set  mouth  of  Mr.  Barrymore's. 
And  after  that,  to  look  down  from  a  frame  of  snow  mountains 
through  a  pinky-white  haze  of  plum,  cherry,  and  pear  blossoms 
to  delicate  green  meadows  sparkling  with  a  thick  gold-dust  of 
dandelions,  was  for  me  like  going  out  to  be  tried  for  my  life  in  a 
frock  made  by  a  fairy. 

I  hardly  breathed  until  the  corkscrew  uncurled  itself  at  last 
and  turned  into  an  ordinary  downhill  road.  Our  car  slackened 
speed,  and  finally,  as  we  came  upon  the  first  long,  level  stretch, 
to  my  astonishment  moved  slower  and  more  slowly  until  it 
stopped  dead. 


XI 

A  CHAPTER  OF  BRAKES  AND  WORMS 

MAMMA  laughed  one  of  those  coquettish,  twenty-five- 
year-old  laughs  that  go  with  her  auburn  hair  and 
her  crowns. 

"  Well,  have  you  decided  to  give  us  a  chance  to 
breathe,  after  all?"  she  asked.  "I  should  say  it  was  about 
time." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  breathe  maledictions  when  you  hear  what 
is  the  matter,"  said  our  Chauffeulier. 

"  Good  gracious !  what 's  happened  ?  "  exclaimed  Mamma. 
"If  the  thing  's  going  to  explode,  do  let  us  get  out  and  run." 

"  So  far  from  exploding,  she  's  likely  to  be  silent  for  some 
time,"  Mr.  Barrymore  went  on,  jumping  down  and  going  to  th« 
automobile's  head.  "  I  'm  awfully  sorry.  After  the  delays  we  V<j 
suffered,  you  won't  think  motoring  is  all  it 's  painted,  when  I  tell 
you  that  we  're  in  for  another." 

"  Why,  what  is  it  this  time  ?  "  Mamma  asked. 

"  I  'm  not  quite  sure  yet,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  "  but  the 
chains  are  wrong  for  one  thing,  and  I  'm  inclined  to  think  there  's 
some  deep-seated  trouble.  I  shall  soon  find  out,  but  whatever  it  is, 
I  hope  you  won't  blame  the  car  too  much.  She  's  a  trump,  really ; 
but  she  had  a  big  strain  put  upon  her  endurance  yesterday  and 
this  morning.  Dragging  another  car  twice  her  size  for  thirty  miles 
or  more  up  a  mountain  pass  is  n't  a  joke  for  a  twelve  horse 
power  car." 

Any  one  would  "think  the  automobile  was  his  instead  of  Sir 
Ralph's  by  the  pride  he  takes  in  it.  Sir  Ralph  does  n't  seem  to 

129 


130  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

care  half  as  much;  but  then  I  don't  believe  he  's  a  born  sports 
man  like  his  friend.  You  can  be  a  motor-car  owner  if  you  've  got 
money  enough;  but  I  guess  you  have  to  be  born  a  motor-car 
man. 

"  Well,  this  is  n't  exactly  an  ideal  place  for  an  accident,"  re 
marked  Mamma,  "  as  it  seems  to  be  miles  from  anywhere ;  but  we 
ought  to  be  thankful  to  Providence  for  not  letting  the  break  come 
up  there  on  that  awful  mountain." 

I  saw  a  faint  twinkle  in  Mr.  Barrymore's  eyes  and  a  twitch  of 
his  lips,  as  he  bent  down  over  the  machinery  without  answering  a 
word,  and  I  could  n't  resist  the  temptation  of  letting  him  see  that 
I  was  in  his  secret.  There  could  n't  be  any  harm  in  it 's  coming 
out  now. 

"  Thankful  to  Mr.  Barrymore  for  bringing  us  safely  down  the 
*  awful  mountain'  when  the  break  had  come  at  the  top,"  I  cor 
rected  Mamma,  with  my  chin  in  the  air. 

"  Good  Heavens,  Beechy,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  gasped, 
while  our  Chauffeulier  flashed  me  a  quick  look  of  surprise. 

"  Oh,  only  that  the  accident,  whatever  it  was,  happened  soon 
after  we  came  out  of  the  tunnel,  and  if  Mr.  Barrymore  'd  stopped 
when  you  wanted  him  to,  he  could  n't  have  started  again,  for  we 
were  just  running  downhill  with  our  own  weight ;  and  I  knew  it 
all  the  time,"  I  explained  airily. 

"  You  're  joking,  Beechy,  and  I  think  it 's  horrid  of  you,"  said 
Mamma,  looking  as  if  she  were  going  to  cry. 

"Am  I  joking,  Mr.  Barrymore?"  I  asked,  turning  to  him. 

*'  I  had  no  idea  that  you  guessed,  and  I  don't  see  now  how  you 
did;  but  it 's  true  that  the  accident  happened  up  there,"  he  ad 
mitted,  and  he  looked  so  grave  that  I  began  to  feel  guilty  for 
telling. 

"  Then  it  was  only  by  a  merciful  dispensation  that  we  were  n't 
hurled  over  the  precipice  and  dashed  to  pieces,"  exclaimed 
Mamma. 

"  That  depends  on  one's  definition  of  a  merciful  dispensation," 
said  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  From  one  point  of  view  every  breath  we 


A  CHAPTER  OF  BRAKES  AND  WORMS      131 

draw  is  a  merciful  dispensation,  for  we  might  easily  choke  to 
death  at  any  instant.  We  were  never  for  a  single  moment  in  dan 
ger.  If  I  had  n't  been  sure  of  that,  of  course  I  would  have  stopped 
the  car  at  any  cost.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  we  began  the  de 
scent  I  found  that  the  hand-brake  would  n't  act,  and  knew  the 
chains  had  gone  wrong.  If  I  'd  thought  it  was  only  that  I  could 
have  put  on  our  spare  chains,  but  I  believed  there  was  more  and 
worse,  so  I  determined  to  get  on  as  far  towards  civilization  as  I 
could  before  stopping  the  car." 

"  You  brought  us  down  those  ghastly  hills  without  a  brake ! " 
Mamma  cried  out,  losing  her  temper.  "  And  Sir  Ralph  called  you 
careful!  I  can  never  trust  you  again." 

I  could  have  slapped  her  and  myself  too. 

"Aunt  ICathryn!"  exclaimed  Maida.  Then  I  could  have 
slapped  her  as  well  for  interfering.  It  would  serve  her  right  if  I 
married  her  off  to  the  Prince. 

The  Chauffeulier  looked  for  a  second  as  if  he  were  going  to  say 
"  Very  well,  madam;  do  as  you  like  about  that."  But  Maida's  lit 
tle  reproachful  exclamation  apparently  poured  balm  upon  his 
troubled  soul. 

"  Not  without  a  brake,"  he  answered,  with  great  patience  and 
politeness,  "  but  with  one  instead  of  two.  If  the  foot-brake  had 
burned,  as  possibly  it  might,  the  compression  of  the  gas  in  the 
cylinder  could  have  been  made  to  act  as  a  brake.  The  steering- 
gear  was  in  perfect  order,  which  was  the  most  important  consid 
eration  in  the  circumstances,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  undertaking  a 
responsibility  which  the  car  and  I  together  were  well  able  to  carry 
out.  But  as  I  thought  that  amateurs  were  likely  to  be  alarmed  if 
they  knew  what  had  happened,  I  naturally  kept  my  knowledge  to 
myself." 

"  I  saw  that  something  was  wrong  by  the  set  expression  of  your 
face,"  said  I,  "  and  I  was  n't  a  bit  afraid,  because  I  felt,  whatever 
it  was,  you  'd  bring  us  through  all  right.  But  I  'm  sorry  I  spoke 
now." 

"You  need  n't  be,"  said  he.  "I  should  n't  have  done  so  my- 


132  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

self  yet  I  was  n't  silent  for  my  own  sake;  and  I  should  do  the 
same  if  it  had  to  be  done  over  again." 

But  this  did  n't  comfort  me  much,  for  I  was  sure  that  Maida 
would  n't  have  spoken  if  she  had  been  in  my  place.  I  don't  know 
why  I  was  sure,  but  I  was. 

"  Whatever  Barrymore  does  in  connection  with  a  motor-car,  is 
always  right,  Countess,"  said  Sir  Ralph,  "  though  in  other  walks 
of  life  I  would  n't  vouch  for  him." 

His  funny  way  of  saying  this  made  us  all  laugh  and  Mamma 
picked  up  the  good  temper  which  she  had  lost  in  her  first  fright. 
She  began  to  apologize,  but  Mr.  Barrymore  would  n't  let  her; 
and  the  storm  was  soon  forgotten  in  the  interest  with  which  we 
hung  upon  the  Chauffeulier's  explorations. 

He  peered  into  the  mysterious  inner  workings  of  the  machine, 
tapped  some  things,  thumped  others,  and  announced  that  one  of 
the  "  cones  of  the  countershaft "  was  broken. 

"  There  's  no  doubt  that  the  undue  strain  yesterday  and  this 
morning  weakened  it,"  he  said,  coming  up  from  the  depths  with 
a  green  smear  on  his  noble  brow.  "  What  we  've  really  to  be 
thankful  for  is  that  it  waited  to  snap  until  we  'd  got  up  all  the 
hills.  Now,  though  as  the  Countess  says  we  seem  to  be  miles 
from  anywhere,  we  're  actually  within  close  touch  of  civilization. 
Unless  I  'm  out  in  my  calculations,  we  must  be  near  a  place  called 
Limone,  where,  if  there  is  n't  much  else,  at  least  there  's  a  station 
on  the  new  railway  line.  All  we  've  got  to  do  is  to  find  something 
to  tow  us,  as  we  towed  Dalmar-Kalm  (a  mere  mule  will  answer 
as  well  as  a  motor)  to  that  station,  where  we  can  put  the  car  on 
the  train  and  be  at  Cuneo  in  no  time.  The  guide-books  say  that 
Cuneo  's  interesting,  and  anyhow  there  are  hotels  of  sorts  there 
—  also  machine  tools,  a  forge,  a  lathe,  and  things  of  that  kind 
which  we  can't  carry  about  with  us." 

"What  a  splendid  adventure!"  exclaimed  Maida.  "I  love  it; 
don't  you,  Beechy  ?  " 

I  answered  that  I  entertained  a  wild  passion  for  it;  but  all  the 
same,  I  wished  I  'd  mentioned  it  first. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  BRAKES  AND  WORMS      133 

This  settled  Mamma's  attitude  towards  the  situation.  She  saw 
that  it  was  young  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  adventure,  so  she 
took  the  cue  from  us  and  flung  herself  in  with  enthusiasm 
enough  to  make  up  for  her  crossness. 

"  Somebody  must  go  on  an  exploring  expedition  for  a  mule," 
said  Mr.  Barrymore,  "  and  as  I  'm  the  only  one  whose  Italian  is 
fairly  fluent,  I  suppose  I  must  be  the  somebody.  Miss  Destrey, 
would  you  care  to  go  with  me  for  the  sake  of  a  little  exercise  ?  " 

In  another  minute  I  would  have  volunteered,  but  even  thir 
teen-year-olds  have  too  much  pride  to  be  the  third  that  makes  a 
crowd.  Gooseberry  jam  is  the  only  jam  I  don't  like ;  so  I  kept  still 
and  let  them  go  off  together,  chaperoned  by  the  little  black  dog. 
Sir  Ralph  stood  by  the  automobile  talking  to  Mamma  while  I 
wandered  aimlessly  about,  though  I  could  tell  by  the  corner  of  his 
eye  that  she  did  n't  occupy  his  whole  attention. 

Just  to  see  what  would  happen,  I  suddenly  squatted  down  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  about  twenty  yards  away,  and  began  to  dig 
furiously  with  the  point  of  my  parasol.  I  had  n't  been  at  work  for 
three  minutes  when  I  was  rewarded.  "  The  Countess  has  sent  me 
to  ask  what  you  are  doing,  Miss  Beechy, "  announced  a  nice 
voice;  and  there  was  Sir  Ralph  peering  over  my  shoulder. 

"I'm  looking  for  one  of  my  poor  relations,"  said  I.  "A 
worm.  She  's  sent  up  word  that  she  is  n't  in.  But  I  don't  be 
lieve  it." 

"  I  'm  glad  my  rich  relations  are  n't  as  prying  as  you  are,"  said 
he.  "  I  often  send  that  message  when  it  would  be  exceedingly  in 
convenient  to  have  further  inquiries  pressed.  Not  to  rich  rela 
tions,  though,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  they  don't  bother 
about  me  or  other  poor  worms,  who  have  not  my  Felicite  to  de 
fend  them." 

"  Who  's  Felicite  ?  "  I  asked,  not  sorry  to  keep  Sir  Ralph  for 
my  own  sake  or  that  of  Mamma  —  who  was  probably  taking  ad 
vantage  of  his  absence  to  put  powder  on  her  nose  and  pink  stuff 
on  her  lips,  by  the  aid  of  her  chatelaine  mirror. 

"  Who  's  Felicite  ?  You  might  as  well  ask  who  is  the  Queen  of 


134  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

England.  Felicite  is  my  cook  —  my  housekeeper  —  my  guide, 
philosopher  and  friend;  my  all." 

"  That  dear,  fat  duck  who  brought  us  tea  the  day  we  were  at 
your  house  ?  " 

"  I  have  two  ducks.  But  Felicite  was  the  one  who  brought  you 
the  tea.  The  other  eats  mice  and  fights  the  cat.  Felicite  does  n't 
eat  mice,  and  fights  me.'* 

"I  loved  her." 

"  So  do  I.  And  I  could  love  you  for  loving  her." 

"Perhaps  you  'd  better  not." 

"  Why  ?  It 's  safe  and  allowable  for  men  of  my  age  to  love  little 
girls." 

"  I  'm  different  from  other  little  girls.  You  said  so  yourself. 
Besides  what  is  your  age  ?  " 

"Twenty-nine." 

"  You  look  about  nineteen.  Our  Chauffeulier  looks  older  than 
you  do." 

"  Chauffeulier  ?  Oh,  I  see,  that 's  your  name  for  Terry.  It 's 
rather  smart." 

"  I  call  it  a  title,  not  a  name,"  said  I.  "  I  thought  he  ought  to 
have  one,  so  I  dubbed  him  that." 

"He  ought  to  be  complimented." 

"  I  mean  him  to  be." 

"  Come  now,  tell  me  what  name  you  've  invented  for  me,  Miss 
Beechy." 

I  shook  my  head.  "  You  've  got  a  ready-made  title.  But  you 
look  too  boyish  to  live  up  to  it.  The  Chauffeulier  would  come  up 
to  my  idea  of  a  baronet  better  than  you  do." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  have  to  be  dignified  really  to  be  a  baronet, 
you  know.  Terry  —  er  —  you  must  n't  mention  to  him  that  I 
told  you ;  but  he  may  be  something  a  good  deal  bigger  than  a 
baronet  one  day." 

"  He  's  a  good  deal  bigger  than  a  baronet  now,"  said  I,  laugh 
ing,  and  measuring  Sir  Ralph  from  head  to  foot.  "  But  what  may 
he  be  one  day  ?  " 


A  CHAPTER  OF  BRAKES  AND  WORMS      135 

"  I  must  n't  say  more.  But  if  you  're  at  all  interested  in  him, 
that  will  be  enough  to  fix  your  attention." 

"What  would  be  the  good  of  fixing  my  attention  on  him,  if 
that 's  what  you  mean,"  I  inquired,  "  when  he  's  got  his  atten 
tion  fixed  upon  another  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  must  n't  judge  by  appearances,"  said  Sir  Ralph 
hastily.  "He  likes  you  awfully;  though,  of  course,  as  you  're  so 
young,  he  can't  show  it  as  he  would  to  an  older  girl." 

"  I  shall  grow  older,"  said  I.  "  Even  before  we  finish  this  trip 
I  shall  be  a  little  older." 

"  Of  course  you  will,"  Sir  Ralph  assured  me  soothingly.  "  By 
that  time,  Terry  will,  no  doubt,  have  screwed  up  courage  to  show 
you  how  much  he  likes  you." 

"  I  should  n't  have  thought  he  lacked  courage,"  said  I. 

"  Only  where  girls  are  concerned,"  explained  Sir  Ralph. 

"  He  seems  brave  enough  with  my  cousin  Maida.  It 's 
Mamma  and  me  he  does  n't  say  much  to,  unless  we  speak  to  him 
first." 

"  You  see  he  's  horribly  afraid  of  being  thought  a  fortune- 
hunter.  He  's  almost  morbidly  sensitive  in  that  way." 

"  O-oh,  I  see,"  I  echoed.  "  Is  that  the  reason  he  's  so  stand-off 
with  us  —  because  he  knows  we  're  rich  ? " 

"  Yes.  Otherwise  he  'd  be  delightful,  just  as  he  is  with  Miss 
Destrey,  with  whom  he  does  n't  have  to  think  of  such  things." 

"  You  're  fond  of  him,  are  n't  you  ? "  I  asked,  beginning 
again  to  dig  for  the  worm ;  for  Sir  Ralph  was  squatting  beside 
me  now,  watching  the  point  of  my  parasol. 

"Rather!"  he  exclaimed.  "He  's  the  finest  fellow  on  earth.  I 
should  like  to  see  him  as  happy  as  he  deserves  to  be." 

"  But  you  don't  want  him  to  fall  in  love  with  Maida  ?  " 

"  That 's  the  last  thing  I  should  choose  for  either  of  them. 
Though  it 's  early  to  talk  of  such  contingencies,  is  n't  it,  as 
they  've  known  each  other  —  we  've  all  known  each  other  — 
only  a  few  days  ? " 

"  It  only  takes  a  few  minutes  for  the  most  important  things  to 


136  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

happen,  such  as  being  born  and  dying.  Why  should  falling  in  love 
take  more  ?  It  would  n't  with  me." 

"  You  're  young  to  judge." 

"  Pooh,  I  've  been  in  love  several  times.  Now  I  come  to  think  of 
it,  I  'm  in  love  this  moment  —  or  almost.  Why  don't  you  want 
Mr.  Barrymore  to  fall  in  love  with  my  cousin  ?  " 

"It  would  be  imprudent." 

"Perhaps  you  're  falling  in  love  with  her  yourself." 

"I  should  n't  wonder." 

"  If  you  '11  tell  me  whether  you  are  or  not,  I  '11  tell  you  who  it  is 
I  think  I  'm  in  love  with." 

"Well,  I  could  be.  Now  for  your  secret." 

"I  give  you  leave  to  guess." 

"Really?" 

"And  truly." 

"  Some  one  we  've  just  been  talking  about  ?  " 

"'I  could  be.'  Oh  dear,  I  believe  this  worm  is  out  after  all." 

"  This  is  most  interesting.  I  don't  mean  about  the  worm.  Ter 
ry  's  in  luck  for  once." 

"But  he  thinks  me  a  little  girl." 

"  Little  girls  can  be  fascinating.  Besides,  I  '11  make  it  my 
business  to  remind  him  that  little  girls  don't  take  long  to  grow 
up." 

"Will  you  really?  But  you  won't  let  him  know  about  this 
talk?" 

"  Sooner  would  I  be  torn  in  two  by  wild  motor-cars.  These  con 
fidences  are  sacred." 

"  I  '11  say  nice  things  about  you  to  Maida,"  I  volunteered. 

He  stared  for  a  minute,  and  then  laughed.  "  I  should  tell  you 
not  to  if  I  were  n't  certain  that  all  the  nice  things  in  the  world 
might  be  said  on  that  subject  with  no  more  effect  upon  Miss  Des- 
trey  than  a  shower  of  rain  has  on  my  duck's  back.  You  must  try 
and  help  me  not  to  fall  in  love  with  her." 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"  Because,  for  one  reason,  she  'd  never  fall  in  love  with  me;  and 


A  CHAPTER  OF  BRAKES  AND  WORMS      137 

for  another,  I  could  n't  in  any  event  afford  to  love  her,  any  more 
than  can  my  friend  Terry  Barrymore." 

"  Perhaps  I  'd  better  work  her  off  on  the  Prince,  and  then 
you  'd  both  be  out  of  danger,"  said  I. 

"  It  would  at  least  save  me  anxiety  about  my  friend,  though  I 
should  doubtless  suffer  in  the  process,"  replied  Sir  Ralph. 

"  I  Jll  comfort  you  whenever  I  have  time,"  I  assured  him. 

"Do,"  he  entreated.  "It  will  be  a  real  charity.  And  in  the 
meantime,  I  shan't  be  idle.  I  shall  be  working  for  you." 

"  Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  said  I.  "  I  should  be  glad  if  you  'd 
report  progress  from  time  to  time." 

"I  will,"  said  he.  "We  '11  keep  each  other  up,  won't  we?" 

"  Be-echy ! "  shrieked  Mamma.  "  I  've  been  screaming  to  you 
for  the  last  twenty  minutes.  Come  here  at  once  and  tell  me  what 
you  're  doing.  It 's  sure  to  be  something  naughty." 

So  we  both  came.  But  the  only  part  that  we  mentioned  was  the 
worm. 


XII 

A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS 

IT  is  wonderful  how  well  it  passes  time  to  have  a  secret  un 
derstanding  with  anybody;  that  is,  if  you  're  a  girl,  and  the 
other  person  a  man.  Mr.  Barrymore  and  Maida  seemed 
hardly  to  have  gone  before  they  were  back  again ;  which 
pleased  me  very  much.  In  attendance  was  a  man  with  a  mule  — 
a  grinning  man ;  a  ragged  and  reluctant  mule ;  which  was  still 
more  reluctant  when  it  found  out  what  it  was  expected  to  do. 
However,  after  a  fine  display  of  diplomacy  on  our  Chauffeulier's 
part,  and  force  on  that  of  the  mule's  owner,  the  animal  was 
finally  hitched  to  the  automobile  with  strong  rope. 

Mr.  Barrymore  had  to  sit  in  the  driver's  seat  to  steer,  while  the 
man  led  the  mule,  but  we  others  decided  to  walk.  Mamma's  heels 
are  not  quite  as  high  as  her  pride  (when  she's  feeling  pretty  well), 
so  she  preferred  to  march  on  the  road  rather  than  endure  the 
ignominy  of  being  dragged  into  even  the  smallest  of  villages 
behind  the  meanest  of  beasts. 

A  train  for  Cuneo  was  due  at  Limone,  it  seemed,  in  an  hour, 
arid  we  could  walk  there  in  about  half  that  time,  Mr.  Barrymore 
thought.  He  had  made  arrangements  with  the  capo  di  stazione, 
as  he  called  him,  to  have  a  truck  in  readiness.  The  auto 
mobile  would  be  put  on  it,  and  the  truck  would  be  hitched  to  the 
train. 

Maida  and  I  were  delighted  with  everything ;  and  when  Mam 
ma  grumbled  a  little,  and  said  this  sort  of  thing  was  n't  what 
she  'd  expected,  we  argued  so  powerfully  that  it  was  much  more 
fun  getting  what  you  did  not  expect,  than  what  you  did,  that  we 

138 


A   CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS  189 

brought  her  round  to  our  point  of  view,  and  set  her  laughing  with 
the  rest  of  us. 

"  After  all,  what  does  it  matter,  as  long  as  we  're  all  young  to 
gether  ?  "  said  she,  at  last ;  and  then  I  knew  that  the  poor  dear 
was  happy. 

Sir  Ralph  considered  Limone  an  ordinary  Italian  village,  but 
it  seemed  fascinating  to  us.  The  fruit  stalls,  under  overhanging 
balconies,  looked  as  if  piled  with  splendid  jewels;  rubies,  ame 
thysts  and  pearls,  globes  of  gold,  and  silver,  and  coral,  as  big  as 
those  that  Aladdin  found  in  the  wonderful  cave.  Dark  girls  with 
starry  eyes  and  clouds  of  hair  stood  gossipping  in  old,  carved 
doorways,  or  peered  curiously  down  at  us  from  oddly  shaped 
windows;  and  they  were  so  handsome  that  we  liked  them  even 
when  they  doubled  up  with  laughter  at  our  procession,  and  called 
their  lovers  and  brothers  to  laugh  too. 

Men  and  women  ran  out  from  dark  recesses  where  they  sold 
things,  and  from  two-foot-wide  alleys  which  the  sun  could  never 
have  even  seen,  staring  at  us,  and  saying  "molta  bella"  as 
Maida  passed.  She  really  was  very  effective  against  the  rich- 
coloured  background  —  like  a  beautiful  white  bird  that  had 
strayed  into  the  narrow  village  streets,  with  sunshine  on  its  wings. 
But  she  did  n't  seem  to  realize  that  she  was  being  looked  at  in  a 
different  way  from  the  rest  of  us.  "  I  suppose  we  're  as  great  curi 
osities  to  them,  as  they  are  to  us, "  she  said,  lingering  to  gaze  at 
the  gorgeous  fruit,  or  some  quaint  Catholic  emblems  for  sale  in 
dingy  windows,  until  Sir  Ralph  had  to  hurry  her  along  lest  we 
should  miss  the  train. 

We  were  in  plenty  of  time,  though;  and  at  the  railroad  depot 
(according  to  me),  or  the  railway  station  (according  to  Sir  Ralph 
and  our  Chauffeulier),  the  automobile  had  been  got  onto  the 
truck  before  the  train  was  signalled.  Our  tickets  had  been 
bought  by  Mr.  Barrymore,  who  would  pay  for  them  all,  as  he 
said  it  was  "  his  funeral, "  and  we  stood  in  a  row  on  the  platform, 
waiting,  when  the  train  boomed  in. 

As  it  slowed  down,  car  after  car  passing  us,  Mamma  gave  a 


140  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

little  scream  and  pointed.  "  Look,  there  's  another  automobile  on 
a  truck ! "  said  she.  "  My  goodness,  if  it  isn  't  exactly  like  the 
Prince's!" 

"  And  if  that  is  n't  exactly  like  the  Prince ! "  echoed  Sir  Ralph, 
waving  his  hand  at  the  window  of  a  car  next  to  the  truck. 

We  all  broke  into  a  shout  of  ribald  joy.  Not  even  a  saint  could 
have  helped  it,  I  'm  sure ;  for  Maida  is  pretty  near  to  a  saint,  and 
she  was  as  bad  as  any  of  us. 

The  Prince's  head  popped  back  into  the  window,  like  a  rab 
bit's  into  its  hole;  but  in  another  second  he  must  have  realized 
that  it  was  no  use  playing  'possum  when  there,  within  a  dozen 
yards,  was  that  big  scarlet  runner  of  his,  as  large  as  life,  though 
not  running  for  the  moment.  He  quickly  decided  to  make  the  best 
of  things  by  turning  the  tables  upon  us,  and  pointing  the  finger 
of  derision  at  our  automobile,  which  by  careening  himself  out  of 
the  window  he  could  see  on  its  truck. 

Before  the  train  had  stopped,  he  was  down  on  the  platform, 
gallantly  helping  Mamma  up  the  high  step  into  the  compartment 
where  he  had  been  sitting;  so  we  all  followed. 

"  You  broke  something,  I  see, "  His  Highness  remarked  jovial 
ly,  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened  to  him. 

"  It  was  you  who  broke  it, "  said  I,  before  either  of  our  men 
could  speak. 

"  But  I  mean  something  in  your  motor, "  he  explained. 

"  Yes,  its  heart !  The  long  agony  of  towing  you  up  those  miles 
of  mountain  was  too  much  for  it.  But  motors'  hearts  can  be 
mended. " 

"  So  can  young  ladies',  n'  est-ce  pas?  Well,  this  is  an  odd  meet 
ing.  I  telegraphed  you,  Countess,  to  the  hotel  at  Cuneo,  where 
we  arranged  our  rendezvous,  in  case  you  arrived  before  me,  to 
say  that  I  was  on  the  way ;  but  now  we  will  all  go  there  together. 
Since  we  parted  I  have  had  adventures.  So,  evidently,  have  you. 
Joseph's  repairs  were  so  unsatisfactory,  owing  to  his  own  ineffi 
ciency  and  that  of  the  machine  shop,  that  I  saw  the  best  thing  to 
do  was  to  come  on  by  train  to  Cuneo,  where  proper  tools  could 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS  141 

be  obtained.  After  some  difficulty  I  found  horses  to  tow  me  up  to 
the  railway  terminus  at  Vievola,  where  I  succeeded  in  getting  a 
truck,  and  —  voila!  " 

Whereupon  Mamma  poured  a  history  of  our  exploits  into  the 
Prince's  ears,  exaggerating  a  little,  but  saying  nothing  detrimental 
to  our  Chauffeulier,  who  would  perhaps  not  have  cared  or  even 
heard  if  she  had,  for  he  was  showing  things  to  Maida  through 
the  window. 

"  We  're  in  Piedmont  now, "  he  said.  "  How  peaceful  and 
pretty,  and  characteristically  Italian  it  is,  with  the  vines  and 
chestnut  trees  and  mulberries!  Who  would  think,  to  see  this 
richly  cultivated  plain,  that  it  was  once  appropriately  nicknamed 
'  the  cockpit  of  Europe, '  because  of  all  the  fighting  that  has  gone 
on  here  between  so  many  nations,  ever  since  the  dawn  of  civiliza 
tion  ?  It 's  just  as  hard  to  realize  as  to  believe  that  the  tiny  rills 
trickling  over  pebbly  river-beds  which  we  pass  can  turn  into 
mighty  floods  when  they  choose.  When  the  snows  melt  on 
Monte  Viso  —  that  great,  white,  leaning  tower  against  the  sky  — 
and  on  the  other  snow  mountains,  then  is  the  time  of  danger  in 
this  land  that  the  sun  loves.  " 

Mamma  thought  the  train  rather  restful  after  an  automobile, 
but  I  discouraged  her  in  that  opinion  by  saying  that  it  sounded 
very  old-fashioned,  and  she  amended  it  by  hurriedly  remarking 
that,  anyhow,  she  would  soon  be  tired  of  resting  and  glad  to  get 
on  again. 

"  That  must  be  Cuneo,  now, "  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  pointing 
to  a  distant  town  which  seemed  to  grow  suddenly  up  out  of  the 
plain,  very  important,  full  of  vivid  colours,  and  modern  looking 
after  the  strange,  ancient  villages  we  had  passed  on  the  way. 

When  we  got  out  of  the  train  Joseph  was  on  the  platform, 
more  depressed  than  ever,  but  visibly  brightening  at  sight  of  Mr. 
Barrymore,  for  whom  he  evidently  cherishes  a  lively  admira 
tion  ;  or  else  he  regards  him  as  a  professional  brother. 

What  happened  to  the  two  automobiles,  I  don 't  know,  for  we 
did  n't  stop  to  see.  Sir  Ralph  had  a  hurried  consultation  with 


142  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

Mr.  Barrymore,  and  then  said  that  he  would  take  us  up  to  the 
hotel  in  a  cab,  with  all  our  luggage. 

There  was  n't  room  for  the  Prince  in  our  ramshackle  old  ve 
hicle,  and  he  took  another,  being  apparently  very  anxious  to  ar 
rive  at  the  hotel  before  us.  He  spoke  to  his  driver,  who  lashed  the 
one  poor  nag  so  furiously  that  Maida  cried  out  with  rage,  and 
they  flashed  past  us,  the  horse  galloping  as  if  Black  Care  were  on 
his  back.  But  something  happened  to  the  harness,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  stop;  so  we  got  ahead,  and  reached  the  wide-arcaded 
square  of  the  hotel  first  after  all. 

It  was  quite  a  grand-looking  town,  for  a  middle-sized  one,  but 
Mamma  drew  back  hastily  when  she  had  taken  a  step  into  the 
hall  of  the  hotel.  "  Oh,  we  can't  stop  here ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  This 
must  be  the  worst  instead  of  the  best. " 

With  that  several  little  men  in  greasy  dress-coats,  spotted 
shirts,  and  collars  so  low  that  you  could  see  down  their  necks, 
sprang  forward  and  bowed  very  humbly,  like  automata.  "  May  I 
have  the  extreme  honour  of  asking  if  it  is  her  very  high  grace, 
Madame  the  Countess  Dalmar  and  suite  who  felicitate  our 
humble  hotel  with  their  presence?"  inquired  the  fattest  and 
spottiest  in  one  long  French  breath. 

Mamma  drew  herself  ap  to  her  full  height,  which  must  be  at 
least  five  feet  three,  heels  included.  I  don't  know  exactly  what  it  is 
to  bridle,  but  I  'm  sure  she  did  it.  She  also  moistened  her  lips 
and  smiled  with  both  dimples. 

"  Wee,  wee,  jay  swee  Countess  Dalmar, "  she  admitted,  leav 
ing  her  suite  to  account  for  itself. 

"  Then  I  have  here  a  telegram  for  madame, "  went  on  the  man, 
giving  her  a  folded  paper  which,  with  an  air,  he  drew  forth 
from  an  unspeakable  pocket. 

Mamma  looked  important  enough  for  a  princess,  at  least,  as 
she  accepted  (I  can't  say  took)  the  paper  and  opened  it.  "  Oh, 
I  might  have  known, "  she  said,  "  it 's  that  one  the  Prince  sent  this 
morning.  But  is  n't  it  funny  he  telegraphs  '  Automobile  in  grand 
condition,  took  hills  like  bird,  shall  make  slight  detour  for  pleas- 


A  CHAPTER   OF   HORRORS  143 

ure,  but  will  reach  Cuneo  almost  as  soon  as  your  party.  Dalmar- 
Kalm.'  I  don't  understand,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  understand  why  the  Prince  was  willing  to  be  left  behind  at 
Tenda,  and  why  he  wanted  to  get  to  this  hotel  first,  anyhow, " 
said  I;  and  Sir  Ralph  and  I  were  laughing  like  mad  when  his  be 
lated  Highness  appeared  on  the  scene.  Seeing  Mamma  with  the 
telegram  in  her  hand,  he  explained  volubly  that  it  had  been  sent 
before  he  decided  to  save  time  and  wear  and  tear  by  coming  on 
the  train ;  but  he  was  red,  and  stammery,  and  Sir  Ralph  looked 
almost  sympathetic,  which  made  me  wonder  whether  all  motor- 
men  sometimes  tell  fibs. 

After  being  received  with  so  much  appreciation,  Mamma  be 
gan  to  think  that  perhaps  the  hotel  was  n't  so  dreadful  after  all ; 
and  when  Sir  Ralph  gave  his  opinion  that  it  would  prove  as  good 
as  any  other,  she  said  that  we  would  stay. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  hurt  the  people's  feelings,  as  they  seem 
such  nice  men, "  she  sighed.  "  But  —  I  suppose  it  will  only  be  for 
coffee?" 

"  I  'm  sorely  afraid  it  will  be  for  dinner  to-night  and  break 
fast  to-morrow  morning  too, "  replied  Sir  Ralph.  "  It 's  too  bad 
that  virtue  such  as  ours  should  have  such  a  reward.  We  did  unto 
others  as  we  would  they  should  do  unto  us;  and  this  is  the  con 
sequence.  Terry  intends  to  work  all  night  on  the  car,  if  he  can 
get  the  mechanic  to  keep  his  shop  going,  and  we  may  hope  to 
start  as  early  in  the  morning  as  you  like. " 

"  Perhaps  Joseph  may  have  mine  ready  to-night,  in  which  case 
I  can  take  the  ladies  on  —  "  the  Prince  began,  but  Mamma  was 
too  overcome  to  hear  him.  Trying  to  look  like  a  Countess  at 
all  costs,  she  allowed  herself  and  us  to  be  led,  as  lambs  to 
the  slaughter,  up  a  flight  of  dirty  stone  stairs,  to  see  the  bed 
rooms. 

"  You  will  have  our  best,  is  it  not,  Madame  la  Comtesse  ?  "  in 
quired  the  man  of  the  hotel,  who  seemed  to  be  a  cross  between  a 
manager  and  a  head-waiter,  and  who  swelled  with  politeness 
behind  a  shirt-front  that  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  the  ten  of 


144  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

clubs.  "  Yes,  I  was  sure  of  that,  gracious  madame.  You  and  your 
suite  may  assure  yourselves  that  you  will  be  placed  in  our 
chambres  de  luxe. " 

With  this  announcement,  he  threw  open  a  door,  and  stood 
salaaming  that  we  might  file  in  before  him. 

Mamma  pitched  forward  down  a  step,  shrieked,  tottered,  saved 
herself  by  clawing  the  air,  while  Maida  and  I  both  pitched  after 
her,  falling  into  fits  of  laughter. 

It  could  n't  have  been  colder  in  the  spotty  man's  family  vault, 
and  I  hope  not  as  musty. 

Maida  flew  to  one  of  the  two  windows,  set  deep  in  the  thickness 
of  the  wall,  and  darkened  by  the  stone  arcade  outside.  But  ap 
parently  it  was  hermetically  sealed,  and  so  was  the  other  which 
I  attacked.  The  Ten  of  Clubs  looked  shocked  when  we  implored 
him  to  open  something  —  anything ;  and  it  was  with  reluctance 
that  he  unscrewed  a  window.  "  The  ladies  will  be  cold, "  he  said. 
"  It  is  not  the  weather  for  letting  into  the  house  the  out  of  doors. 
We  do  that  in  the  summer. " 

"  Have  n't  these  windows  been  opened  since  then  ?  "  gasped 
Maida. 

"  But  no  mademoiselle.   Not  to  my  knowledge.  " 

"  Make  him  show  us  other  rooms,  quick, "  said  Mamma,  who 
can't  speak  much  more  French  than  a  cat,  though  she  had  a  lesson 
from  a  handsome  young  gentleman  every  day  at  Cap  Martin,  at 
ten  francs  an  hour. 

"  This  is  the  only  one  that  will  accommodate  the  ladies, "  re 
plied  the  Ten  of  Clubs.  "  The  other  that  we  have  unoccupied 
must  be  for  the  gentlemen.  " 

The  idea  of  our  two  men  and  the  Prince  as  room-mates  was  so 
excruciating  that  I  suddenly  felt  equal  to  bearing  any  hardship ; 
but  Mamma  has  n't  the  same  sense  of  humour  I  have,  and  she 
said  that  she  knew  she  was  sickening  for  something,  probably 
smallpox. 

"  Three  of  us  in  this  room  all  night ! "  she  wailed.  "  We  shall 
never  leave  the  hotel  alive." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS  145 

At  this  juncture  Sir  Ralph  appeared  at  the  door,  peeping 
gingerly  in  at  us,  and  looking  the  picture  of  misery. 

"  I  'm  so  sorry  for  everything, "  he  said.  '*  Terry 's  down-stairs, 
and  we  both  feel  that  we  're  awful  sweeps,  though  we  hope  you 
won't  think  we  are.  He  's  going  to  interview  the  other  hotels  and 
see  if  he  can  find  anything  better,  so  don't  decide  till  he  comes 
back. " 

We  three  female  waifs  stood  about  and  smelt  things  and  imag 
ined  that  we  smelled  still  more  things,  while  Sir  Ralph  exhausted 
himself  in  keeping  up  a  conversation  with  the  Ten  of  Clubs,  as 
if  all  four  of  our  lives  depended  upon  it.  The  ordeal  lasted  only 
about  ten  minutes,  though  it  seemed  a  year,  and  then  Mr.  Barry- 
more's  tall  form  loomed  in  the  dark  doorway. 

"  There  's  nothing  better,  he  announced  desperately.  "  But  you 
ladies  can  go  on  to  Alessandria  by  train  with  Dalmar-Kalm, 
who  '11  be  only  too  happy  to  take  you." 

"What,  and  desert  Mr.  Automobile-Micawber ? "  I  cut  in. 
"  Never !  We  're  none  of  us  infirm  old  women,  are  we,  Mamma, 
that  we  should  mind  roughing  it,  for  once  ? " 

"No-o, "  said  Mamma.  "It  —  I  dare  say  it  will  be  fun.  And 
anyhow,  we  can  have  them  make  a  fire  here,  so  it  will  be  less  like 
picnicking  in  one's  own  grave. " 

The  very  thought  of  a  fire  was  cheering,  and  we  trooped  off  to 
the  salle  a  manger,  where  it  was  understood  that  the  Prince  had 
gone  to  order  coffee.  Mr.  Barrymore  would  n't  stay,  for  he  was 
anxious  to  get  back  to  the  motor,  which  he  had  left  at  a  machin 
ist's,  and  deserted  only  long  enough  to  come  and  give  us  news. 
The  "  shop  "  was  to  keep  open  all  night,  and  he  would  work  there, 
making  a  new  cone.  Joseph,  it  seemed,  was  to  work  all  night  in 
another  shop,  and  both  automobiles  were  to  be  ready  in  the 
morning. 

"  But  you  will  be  horribly  tired,  driving  through  the  day  and 
working  through  the  night,"  said  Maida.  "I  for  one  would 
rather  stop  here  to-morrow.  " 

"  It 's  nothing,  thanks.  I  shall  rather  like  it,"  replied  the  Chauf- 


146  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

feulier.  "  Please  don't  worry  about  me.  "  Then  he  gave  us  a  smile 
and  was  off. 

The  coffee  was  so  good  that  our  spirits  rose.  We  decided  to  un 
pack  what  we  needed,  and  then,  by  way  of  passing  the  time  be 
fore  dinner,  take  a  walk. 

Strange  to  say,  the  Prince  did  not  complain  of  his  quarters, 
but,  after  we  had  for  the  second  time  refused  his  offer  of  an  es 
cort  to  Alessandria,  became  somewhat  taciturn.  We  left  him  in 
the  salle  d  manger,  Mamma  heading  the  procession  of  three  which 
trailed  to  our  room.  Maida  and  I  lingered  behind  for  a  moment, 
to  play  with  our  first  Italian  cat,  until  a  wild  cry  of  "  Fire ! "  from 
Mamma  took  us  after  her  with  a  rush.  A  cloud  of  wood  smoke 
beat  us  back,  but  Maida  pushed  bravely  in,  got  a  window  open 
again,  and,  after  all,  there  was  nothing  more  exciting  than  a 
smoky  chimney. 

Sir  Ralph,  hearing  the  clamour,  flew  to  the  rescue,  poured 
water  from  the  pitcher  into  the  ricketty  three-legged  stove,  upset 
a  good  deal  on  himself  and  on  the  cemented  floor  (which  looked 
like  a  slab  of  frozen  sausage),  and  finally  succeeded  in  putting 
out  the  fire,  though  not  until  both  beds  were  covered  with  blacks. 

By  this  time  the  Ten  of  Clubs,  the  Nine,  the  Eight,  and  all  the 
little  cards  of  the  pack  were  dancing  about  us  in  a  state  bordering 
on  frenzy,  but  Maida  and  Sir  Ralph  together  eventually  evolved 
a  kind  of  unlovely  order  out  of  chaos,  and  everybody  was  told  off 
to  perform  some  task  or  other:  one  to  sweep,  one  to  dust,  one 
to  change  the  bedding. 

In  self-defence  we  hurried  off  for  our  walk,  leaving  the  unpack 
ing  for  later,  and  Sir  Ralph  proposed  that  we  should  find  the 
machine  shop  where  the  Chauffeulier  was  working. 

We  asked  the  way  of  a  good  many  people,  all  of  whom  gave  us 
different  directions,  and  at  last  arrived  at  a  building  which  look 
ed  as  if  it  might  be  the  right  place.  But  there  was  Joseph  pound 
ing  and  mumbling  to  himself,  and  no  Mr.  Barrymore. 

In  common  humanity  we  stopped  for  a  few  words,  and  Joseph 
mistook  our  inch  of  sympathy  for  an  ell.  Almost  with  tears  he 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS  147 

told  us  the  history  of  his  day,  and  choked  with  rage  at  the  pros 
pect  of  the  long  task  before  him.  "  What  is  it  to  His  HigLness  that 
I  lose  a  night's  sleep  ?  "  he  demanded  of  a  red-hot  bar  which  he 
brandished  at  arm's  length.  "  Less  than  nothing,  since  he  will 
sleep,  believing  that  all  will  be  ready  for  him  in  the  morning.  But 
his  dreams  would  be  less  calm  if  he  knew  what  I  know. " 

"What  do  you  know,  Joseph?"  asked  Sir  Ralph,  edging 
nearer  to  the  door. 

"  That  the  water-power  will  be  shut  off  at  eleven  o'clock,  the 
lathes  will  no  longer  turn,  and  I  can  do  nothing  more  till  to 
morrow  morning  at  six,  which  means  that  we  will  not  get  away 
till  noon. " 

"  By  Jove,  that's  a  bad  look-out  for  us,  too, "  said  Sir  Ralph, 
when  we  had  escaped  from  Joseph.  "  I  suppose  things  will  be  the 
same  at  Terry's  place.  What  a  den  for  you  to  be  delayed  in !  But 
I  've  an  idea  the  Prince  means  to  sneak  quietly  off  to  Alessandria, 
and  will  expect  Joseph  to  meet  him  there  to-morrow  morning. 
My  prophetic  soul  divined  as  much  from  his  thoughtful  air  as  we 
discussed  our  quarters. " 

It  was  almost  dark  when  we  found  the  other  machine  shop,  at 
the  end  of  a  long  straight  road  with  a  brook  running  down  it, 
and  trees  walking  beside  it,  straight  and  tall.  It  was  a  wonderful, 
luminous  kind  of  darkness,  though,  that  had  n't  forgotten  the 
sunset,  and  the  white  mountains  were  great  banks  of  roses 
against  a  skyful  of  fading  violets.  But  the  minute  we  stepped  in 
side  the -machine  shop,  which  was  lighted  up  by  the  red  fire  of  a 
forge,  night  seemed  suddenly  to  fall  like  a  black  curtain,  shutting 
down  outside  the  open  door  and  windows. 

Two  or  three  men  were  moving  about  the  place,  weedy  little 
fellows ;  and  Mr.  Barrymore  was  like  a  giant  among  them,  a  splen 
did  giant,  handsomer  than  ever  in  a  workman's  blouse  of  blue 
linen,  open  at  the  throat,  and  the  sleeves  rolled  up  to  his  elbows 
to  show  muscles  that  rippled  under  the  skin  like  waves  on  a  river. 

That  was  what  I  thought,  at  least;  but  Sir  Ralph  apparently 
differed  with  me,  for  he  said,  "  You  do  look  a  sweep.  Is  n't  it 


148  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

about  time  you  dropped  work,  and  thought  of  making  yourself 
respectable  for  dinner  ?  Judging  by  appearances,  that  will  take 
you  several  hours. " 

"  I  'm  going  to  have  a  sandwich  and  some  wine  of  the  country 
here, "  answered  the  giant  in  the  blue  blouse.  "  Awfully  good  of 
you  all  to  come  and  call  on  me.  Would  you  like  to  see  the  new 
cone,  as  far  as  it 's  got  ?  " 

Of  course  we  said  "  yes, "  and  were  shown  a  thing  which  look 
ed  as  if  it  might  be  finished  in  ten  minutes ;  but  when  Sir  Ralph 
commented  on  it  to  that  effect,  Mr.  Barrymore  went  into  tech 
nical  explanations  concerning  "cooling"  and  other  details  of 
which  none  of  us  understood  anything  except  that  it  would  be  an 
"all  night  job." 

"  But  you  can't  work  without  the  water-wheel,  I  suppose  ?  " 
said  Sir  Ralph.  "  And  we  've  just  heard  from  Joseph  toiling 
away  at  a  rival  establishment,  that  the  water  is  taken  off  at 
eleven. " 

"  This  water  won't  be.  I  'm  paying  extra  for  it.  As  a  great  con 
cession  I  'm  to  have  it  all  night.  Joseph  could  have  got  it,  too,  if 
he  'd  had  a  little  forethought. " 

"Joseph  and  forethought!  Never.  And  what  is  more,  I  don't 
think  he  'd  thank  us  for  the  information.  He  is  rejoicing  in  the 
thought  of  an  excuse  for  bed. " 

"  That  's  the  difference  between  a  chauffeur  and  a  Chauffeu- 
lier, "  I  whispered  to  Maida. 

"  It 's  really  very  good  of  you  to  work  so  hard, "  said  Mamma, 
condescending  to  the  blue  blouse. 

"  I  never  enjoyed  anything  more  in  my  life, "  replied  its  wearer, 
with  a  quick  glance  towards  Maida,  which  I  intercepted.  "  The 
one  drop  of  poison  in  my  cup  is  the  thought  of  your  discomfort, " 
he  went  on,  to  us  all.  "  You  must  make  them  give  you  warming- 
pans  anyhow,  and  be  sure  that  the  beds  are  dry. " 

"  I  should  think  they  're  more  like  swamps  than  beds, "  said 
Mamma.  "  We  shall  sit  up  rather  than  run  any  risk. " 

"Besides,"  I  began,  "there  might  be—  " 


Two  or  three  men  were  moving  about  the  place 


.''    *  .  r    ' 

.   ' 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS  149 

"  Hush,  Beechy ! "  she  indignantly  cut  me  short. 

"  I  was  only  going  to  say  there  might  be  —  " 

"You  mustn't  say  it." 

"Sofa  birds." 

"  You  naughty,  dreadful  child.  I  am  astonished. " 

"Don't  prig  or  vipe,  Mamma.  Sir  Ralph,  don't  you  think 
those  are  nice  abbreviations?  I  made  them  up  myself.  'Prig', 
be  priggish.  '  Vipe',  be  viperish.  Mamma's  not  at  all  nice  when 
she  's  either. " 

"  I  think  you  're  all  wonderfully  good-natured, "  remarked  Mr. 
Barrymore  hastily.  "  You  are  the  right  sort  of  people  for  a  mo 
toring  trip,  and  no  other  sort  ought  to  undertake  one.  Only  men 
and  women  of  fairly  venturesome  dispositions,  who  revel  in  the 
unexpected,  and  love  adventure,  who  can  find  fun  in  hardships, 
and  keep  happy  in  the  midst  of  disappointments,  should  set  out 
on  such  an  expedition  as  this. " 

"  In  fact,  young  people  like  ourselves, "  added  Mamma,  beam 
ing  again. 

"  Yes,  young  in  heart,  if  not  in  body.  I  hope  to  be  still  motor 
ing  when  I  'm  eighty ;  but  I  shall  feel  a  boy. " 

We  left  him  hammering,  and  looking  radiantly  happy,  which 
was  more  than  we  were  as  we  wandered  back  to  the  arcaded 
town  and  our  hotel ;  but  we  felt  obliged  to  live  up  to  the  reputa 
tion  Mr.  Barrymore  had  just  given  us. 

Somehow,  the  Ten  of  Clubs  and  his  assistant  cards  (there  were 
no  chambermaids)  had  contrived  to  make  a  fire  that  did  n't 
smoke,  and  the  bed  linen  looked  clean,  though  coarse.  Dinner  — 
which  we  ate  with  our  feet  on  boards  under  the  table,  to  keep 
them  off  the  cold  stone  floor  —  was  astonishingly  good,  and  we 
quite  enjoyed  grating  cheese  into  our  soup  on  a  funny  little 
grater  with  which  each  one  of  us  was  supplied.  We  had  a  delic 
ious  red  wine  with  a  little  sparkle  in  it,  called  Nebiolo,  which  Sir 
Ralph  ordered  because  he  thought  we  would  like  it;  and  when 
we  had  finished  dining,  Mamma  felt  so  much  encouraged  that 
she  spoke  quite  cheerfully  of  the  coming  night. 


150  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

We  went  to  our  room  early,  as  we  were  to  start  at  eight  next 
day,  and  try  to  get  on  to  Pavia  and  Milan.  We  had  said  nothing 
to  the  Prince  about  the  water-wheel,  as  it  was  not  our  affair  to  get 
Joseph  into  trouble  with  his  master;  and  I  'm  afraid  that  all  of 
us  except  Mamma  derived  a  sinful  amusement  from  the  thought 
of  His  Highnesses  surprise  in  the  morning,  at  Alessandria  or  else 
where.  Even  Maida's  eyes  twinkled  naughtily  as  he  bade  us  "  au 
revoir,  till  our  start,"  kissing  Mamma's  hand,  and  saying  nothing 
of  his  night  plans. 

"I  wonder  if  we  could  go  to  bed,  after  all?"  soliloquized 
Mamma,  looking  wistfully  at  the  hard  pillows  and  the  red-cased 
down  coverlets,  when  we  were  in  our  room.  "  What  was  that  Mr. 
Terrymore  said  about  warming-pans  ?  I  should  have  thought 
they  were  obsolete,  except  to  hang  up  on  parlour  walls. " 

"  I  should  think  nothing  that  was  in  use  six  hundred  years  ago, 
was  obsolete  in  an  Italian  town  like  this, "  said  I.  "  Anyhow, 
I  '11  ring  and  see.  " 

I  did  ring,  but  nobody  answered,  of  course,  and  I  had  to  yell 
over  the  top  of  the  stairs  for  five  minutes,  when  the  Ten  of  Clubs 
appeared,  looking  much  injured,  having  evidently  believed  that 
he  was  rid  of  us  for  the  night. 

He  almost  wept  in  his  earnest  endeavours  to  assure  us  that  the 
bedding  was  as  dry  and  warm  as  the  down  on  a  swan's  breast ; 
but  when  Maida  insisted  on  warming-pans,  he  admitted  that 
they  existed  in  the  house. 

We  were  sleepy,  but  having  ordered  warming-pans  which 
might  stalk  in  at  any  moment,  we  could  not  well  begin  to  undress 
until  they  had  been  produced  and  manipulated.  We  waited  an 
hour,  until  we  were  nodding  in  our  chairs,  and  all  started  from  a 
troubled  doze  at  the  sound  of  loud  knocking  at  the  door. 

In  the  passage  outside  stood  four  sad-faced  young  men  of  the 
card  tribe,  bearing  two  large  and  extraordinary  implements.  One 
looked  like  a  couple  of  kitchen  chairs  lashed  together  foot  to  foot, 
to  make  a  cage,  or  frame,  the  space  between  being  lined  with 
sheets  of  metal.  The  other  was  a  great  copper  dish  with  big  enough 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HORRORS  151 

holes  pricked  in  the  cover  to  show  the  red  glow  from  a  quantity  of 
acrid  smelling  wood-ashes. 

All  four  came  into  the  room,  solemn  and  silent,  while  we 
watched  them,  struck  dumb  with  amazement. 

They  set  down  the  things  on  the  floor,  turned  open  the  larger 
bed  of  the  two,  which  Mamma  and  I  were  to  share,  put  in  the 
huge  frame,  shoved  the  copper  bowl  inside  it,  as  a  cook  would 
shove  a  dish  into  the  oven,  and  replaced  the  covering.  Then  they 
stood  and  gravely  waited  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  till  they 
thought  that  the  dampness  had  been  cooked  out.  We  stood  by 
also,  momentarily  expecting  to  see  the  bed  break  into  'flames ;  but 
nothing  happened,  except  rather  a  nice,  hot  smell.  At  last,  with 
one  accord  they  flew  at  the  blankets,  turned  them  down,  took  out 
dish  and  frame,  and  repeated  the  same  process  with  Maida's 
narrow  bunk. 

It  took  us  nearly  an  hour  afterwards  to  get  ready  for  bed,  but 
when  we  crept  in  at  last  it  was  like  cuddling  down  in  a  hot  bird's- 
nest,  odorous  of  cooked  moss. 

In  the  daytime  we  had  n't  noticed  that  the  hotel  was  partic 
ularly  noisy,  though  it  apparently  had  most  other  vices;  but  ten 
o'clock  seemed  the  hour  when  all  the  activities  of  the  house  and 
town  began. 

Church  bells  boomed;  electric  bells  rang;  myriads  of  heavy 
carts  rolled  through  the  stone-paved  square;  people  sang, 
whistled,  laughed,  gossipped,  quarrelled,  and  even  danced  in  the 
street  under  our  windows,  while  those  in  the  hotel  had  apparently 
been  advised  by  their  physicians  to  run  up  and  down  stairs  for 
hours  without  stopping,  for  the  good  of  their  livers. 

It  was  a  busy  night  for  everybody,  and  my  one  consolation  was 
in  planning  the  dreadful  tortures  I  would  inflict  on  the  whole 
population  of  Cuneo  if  I  were  King  of  Italy.  I  thought  of  some 
very  original  things,  but  the  worst  of  it  was,  when  I  did  finally 
fall  asleep  I  dreamed  that  they  were  being  tried  on  me. 


XIII 
A  CHAPTER  OF  WILD  BEASTS 

THE  dear  thing !  How  nice  to  see  it  again '  I  could  kiss 
it,"  I  heard  Maida  saying.  Something  was   snorting 
dreadfully,  too.  I  'm  not  sure  which  waked  me.  But 
I  sleepily  asked  Maida  what  it  was   she  could  kiss. 
"Why,  the  automobile,  of  course,"  she  replied.  "Now,Beechy, 
don't  drop  off  again.  It 's  down  there  in  the  courtyard.  Can't  you 
hear  it  calling  ?  This  is  the  third  time  I  've  tried  to  wake  you  up." 
"Oh,  I  thought  it  was  the  Ten  of  Clubs  roaring,  while  I 
dipped  him  repeatedly  into  boiling  cod- liver  oil,"  I  murmured; 
but  I  jumped  out  of  bed  and  dressed  myself  as  if  the  house  were 
on  fire. 

Mamma  said  that  she  had  been  up  since  six;  and  I  knew  why; 
she  had  n't  liked  to  make  herself  beautiful  under  the  eyes  of 
Maida,  so  exquisitely  adorned  by  Nature.  But  she  was  fresh  and 
gay  as  a  cricket. 

In  the  salle  d  manger  were  Sir  Ralph  and  Mr.  Barrymore,  who 
had  brought  the  motor  from  the  machine  shop.  He  looked  as 
well  tubbed  and  groomed  as  if  he  had  had  two  hours  for  his  toi 
let,  instead  of  twenty  minutes ;  and  we  laughed  a  great  deal  as  we 
told  our  night  adventures,  feeling  as  if  we  'd  been  friends  for 
months,  if  not  years.  It  was  much  nicer  without  the  Prince,  I 
thought,  though  Mamma  kept  glancing  at  the  door,  and  showed 
her  disappointment  on  learning  that  he  had  stolen  off  to  sleep  at 
Alessandria.  Joseph,  it  seemed,  had  telegraphed  him  this  morning 
about  the  water-wheel,  and  the  news  that  his  automobile  could  n't 
be  ready  till  twelve  or  one  o'clock. 

152 


A  CHAPTER  OF  WILD   BEASTS  153 

As  we  thankfully  turned  our  backs  on  Cuneo  we  realized  why 
it  had  been  given  a  name  signifying  "  wedge,"  because  of  the  two 
river  torrents,  the  Stura  and  Gesso,  that  whittle  the  town  to  a 
point,  one  on  either  side.  For  a  while  we  ran  smoothly  along  a 
road  on  a  high  embankment,  which  reminded  Sir  Ralph  and  the 
Chauffeulier  of  the  Loire;  less  beautiful  though,  they  thought,  de 
spite  the  great  wedding-ring  of  white  mountains  that  girdled  the 
country  round. 

By  and  by  the  mountains  dwindled  to  hills,  purple  and  blue  in 
the  distance,  misty  spring-green  in  the  foreground:  and  in  place 
of  the  dandelions  of  yesterday  we  had  a  carpet  of  buttercups 
woven  in  gold  on  either  side  of  the  road.  There  was  always  the 
river,  too;  and,  asMaidasaid,  water  brightens  a  landscape  as  a 
diamond  brightens  a  ring. 

The  air  was  as  warm  now  as  on  the  Riviera  but  there  was  a 
tingle  of  youth  and  spring  in  it,while  at  Cap  Martin  it  was  already 
heavy  with  the  perfume  of  summer  flowers.  And  we  had  not  to  be 
sorry  for  poor  people  to-day,  for  there  were  no  poverty-stricken 
villages.  The  country  was  rich,  every  inch  cultivated,  and  there 
were  comfortable  farms  with  tall,  important-looking  gateways. 
But,  then,  Mr.  Barrymore  told  us  that  it  was  no  safer  to  judge  an 
Italian  farm  by  its  gateway  than  an  Italian  village  shop  by  the 
contents  of  its  windows. 

After  a  while,  just  as  we  might  have  begun  to  tire  of  the  far- 
reaching  plain,  it  broke  into  billows,  each  earthy  wave  crested  by  a 
ruined  chateau,  or  a  still  thriving  mediaeval  town.  Bra  was  the 
finest,  with  a  grand  old  red -brown  cast'e  towering  high  on  a  hill, 
and  throwing  a  cool  shadow  all  across  the  hot,  white  road  below. 

"  We  must  stop  in  Asti,  if  it 's  but  for  ten  minutes,"  said  Sir 
Ralph. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Maida,  over  her  shoulder  (she  was  sitting  in  the 
front  seat  again,  where  Mr.  Barrymore  had  contrived  to  put  her). 
"  Do  you  mean  on  account  of  Vittorio  Alfieri  ?  " 

"Who  is  he?"  inquired  Mamma;  and  I  was  wondering,  too; 
but  I  hate  to  show  that  I  don't  know  things  Maida  knows. 


154  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  Oh,  he  was  a  charming  poet,  born  in  Asti  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,"  said  Maida.  "  I  've  read  a  lot  about  him,  at 
—  at  home.  He  had  one  of  the  prettiest  love  stories  in  history.  It 
is  like  an  Anthony  Hope  romance.  I  thought,  perhaps,  Sir  Ralph 
wanted  us  to  see  the  house  wiiere  he  lived." 

"  I  'in  ashamed  to  say  it  was  the  Asti  Spumante  I  was  thinking 
of,"  confessed  Sir  Ralph.  "  It 's  a  wine  for  children,  but  it  might 
amuse  you  all  to  taste  it  on  its  native  heath ;  and  you  could  drink 
the  health  of  Vittorio  Alfieri  —  in  a  better  world." 

Mamma  thought  that  proceeding  rather  too  Popish  for  a  pro 
fessed  Presbyterian;  nevertheless,  we  decided  to  have  the  wine. 
We  approached  Asti  by  way  of  a  massive  gateway,  which  formed 
a  part  of  the  ancient  fortifications  of  the  city;  and  though  we  had 
seen  several  others  rather  like  it  since  coming  into  Piedmont  and 
Lombardy,  it  struck  me  with  a  sort  of  awe  that  I  would  have 
been  ashamed  to  put  into  words,  except  on  paper,  for  fear  some 
body  might  laugh.  I  suppose  it 's  because  I  come  from  a  country 
where  we  think  houses  aged  at  fifty,  and  antique  at  a  hundred ; 
but  these  old  fortified  towns  and  ruined  castles  frowning  down 
from  rocky  heights  give  me  the  kind  of  eerie  thrill  one  might  have 
if  one  had  just  died  and  was  being  introduced  to  scenery  and 
society  on  the  fixed  stars  or  planets. 

At  home  it  had  always  seemed  so  useless  to  know  which  was 
which,  Guelfs  or  Ghibellines,  when  I  was  studying  history,  that 
I  made  no  effort  to  fix  them  in  my  mind ;  but  now,  when  I  caught 
snatches  of  talk  between  Maida  and  the  Chauffeulier,  to  whom  the 
Guelfs  and  Ghibellines  are  still  apparently  as  real  as  Repub 
licans  and  Democrats  were  to  Papa,  I  wished  that  I  knew  a  little 
more  about  them.  But  how  could  I  tell  in  those  days  that  I 
would  ever  be  darting  about  in  a  country  where  George  Wash 
ington  and  Abraham  Lincoln  would  seem  more  unreal  than  the 
Swabian  Emperors,  the  Marquesses  of  Montferrat,  and  the 
Princes  of  Savoie  ever  did  to  me  in  Denver  ? 

I  envied  Maida  when  I  heard  her  say  that  the  House  of  Savoie 
had  been  like  Goethe's  star,  "unhasting  and  unresting"  in  its 


A   CHAPTER  OF   WILD   BEASTS  155 

absorption  of  other  principalities,  marquisates,  counties,  duchies, 
and  provinces,  which  it  had  matched  into  one  great  mosaic,  at 
last,  making  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  Mr.  Barrymore  loves  Italy  so 
much  that  he  likes  her  for  knowing  these  things,  and  I  think  I 
shall  steal  that  book  she  bought  at  Nice,  and  is  always  reading  — 
Hallam's  "Middle  Ages." 

The  effect  of  the  grim  old  gateways,  even  upon  me,  is  a  little 
marred  by  the  fact  that  from  out  of  their  shadows  usually  jump 
small  blue-uniformed  Octroi  men  like  Jacks  from  a  box.  At  Asti 
there  was  a  particularly  fussy  one,  who  would  n't  take  Mr.  Bar- 
rymore's  word  that  we  'd  nothing  to  declare,  but  poked  and 
prodded  at  our  hold-alls  and  bags,  and  even  sniffed  as  if  he  sus 
pected  us  of  spirits,  tobacco,  or  onions.  He  looked  so  comic  as  he 
did  this  that  Maida  laughed,  which  appeared  to  overwhelm  him 
with  remorse,  as  if  an  angel  had  had  hysterics.  He  flushed, 
bowed,  motioned  for  us  to  pass  on,  and  we  sailed  into  a  wide, 
rather  stately  old  street. 

"  Oh,  look ! "  Maida  cried  out,  pointing,  and  the  Chauffeulier 
slowed  down  before  a  house  with  a  marble  tablet  on  it.  It  was  al 
most  a  palace;  and  Mamma  began  to  feel  some  respect  for  Vitto- 
rio  Alfieri  when  she  read  on  the  slab  of  marble  that  he  had  been 
born  there.  "Why,  he  must  have  been  a  gentleman!"  she  ex 
claimed. 

Maida  and  Mr.  Barrymore  laughed  at  that,  and  Sir  Ralph  said 
that  evidently  the  Countess  had  a  small  opinion  of  poets. 

"  Another  Countess  loved  Alfieri,"  remarked  Mr.  Barrymore; 
and  when  Mamma  heard  that,  she  made  a  note  to  buy  his  poems. 
But  I  don't  believe  she  knew  who  the  Countess  of  Albany  was, 
though  she  was  able  to  join  feebly  in  the  conversation  about  the 
Young  Pretender. 

We  went  into  the  house,  and  wandered  about  some  cold, 
gloomy  rooms,  in  one  of  which  Vittorio  had  happened  to  be  born. 
We  saw  his  portrait,  and  a  sonnet  in  his  own  handwriting,  which 
Mr.  Barrymore  translated  for  Maida,  and  would  for  me,  perhaps, 
only  I  was  too  proud  to  interrupt.  Altogether  I  should  have  felt 


156  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

quite  out  of  it  if  it  had  n't  been  for  Sir  Ralph.  After  our  talk  about 
the  worm  and  other  things,  he  could  n't  help  guessing  what  my 
feelings  were,  and  he  did  his  best  to  make  me  forget  my  sorrow. 
He  said  that  he  did  n't  know  anything  about  the  Italian  poets 
except  the  really  necessary  ones,  such  as  Dante  and  Petrarch, 
and  as  little  as  possible  of  them.  Then  he  asked  about  the  Amer 
ican  ones,  and  seemed  interested  in  Walt  Whitman  and  Eugene 
Field  and  James  Whitcomb  Riley,  all  of  whom  I  can  recite  by  the 
yard. 

When  we  had  scraped  up  every  item  of  interest  about  Alfieri, 
as  Papa  used  to  scrape  up  butter  for  his  bread  rather  than  take  a 
fresh  bit,  we  spun  on  again  to  an  old-fashioned  hotel,  where 
everybody  rushed  to  meet  us,  bowing,  and  looked  ready  to  cry 
when  they  found  we  did  n't  want  rooms. 

"  Perhaps  the  Countess  would  absolve  you  from  your  vow  of 
temperance,  Terry,  that  you  may  have  the  exquisite  delight  of 
quaffing  a  little  Asti  Spumante,"  said  Sir  Ralph  to  Mr.  Barry- 
more,  when  we  were  at  a  table  in  a  large,  cool  dining-room. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  replied  Mamma,  and  then  opened  her  eyes 
wide  when  both  men  laughed,  and  Mr.  Barrymore  intimated 
that  Sir  Ralph's  head  would  be  improved  by  punching.  Neither 
of  them  would  take  any  of  the  wine  when  it  came,  though  it 
looked  fascinating,  fizzling  out  of  beautiful  bottles  decked  with 
gold  and  silver  foil,  like  champagne.  It  tasted  like  champagne 
too,  so  far  as  I  could  tell ;  but  perhaps  I  'm  not  a  judge,  as  there 
was  never  any  wine  except  elderberry  at  home,  and  I  've  only  had 
champagne  twice  since  I  've  been  the  child  of  a  Countess.  The 
Asti  was  nice  and  sweet.  I  loved  it,  and  so  did  Mamma,  who  said 
she  would  have  it,  torrents  of  it,  at  the  next  dinner  party  she 
gave.  But  when  Sir  Ralph  hurried  to  tell  her  that  it  was  cheap, 
she  vacillated,  worrying  lest  it  should  n't  be  worthy  to  go  with  her 
crowns. 

I  don't  know  whether  it  was  the  Spumante,  or  the  sunshine,  as 
golden  as  the  wine,  but  I  felt  quite  happy  again  when  we  drove 
out  of  Asti.  I  did  n't  care  at  all  that  I  was  n't  sitting  beside  Mr. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  WILD  BEASTS  157 

Barrymore,  though  I  thought  that  I  probably  should  care  again 
by  and  by.  Mamma  was  happy,  too,  and  Sir  Ralph  amused  us  by 
planning  a  book  to  be  called  "Motoring  for  Experts,  by  Ex 
perts."  There  were  a  good  many  Rules  for  Automobilists,  such 
as:  — 

No.  1.  Never  believe  you  have  got  money  enough  with  you 
when  you  start.  Whatever  you  think  will  be  right,  be  sure  you 
will  want  exactly  twice  as  much. 

No.  2.  Never  suppose  you  have  plenty  of  time,  or  plenty  of 
room  for  your  luggage.  Never  get  up  in  the  morning  at  the  time 
your  chauffeur  (not  Mr.  Barrymore,  but  others)  tells  you  he  will 
have  the  car  ready.  Do  not  leave  your  bed  till  the  automobile  is 
under  your  window,  and  do  not  pack  the  things  you  have  used 
for  the  night  until  the  chauffeur  has  started  your  motor  for  the 
third  time. 

No.  3.  All  invalids,  except  those  suffering  from  pessimism, 
may  hope  to  be  benefited  by  motoring ;  but  pessimism  in  a  mild 
form  often  becomes  fatally  exaggerated  by  experience  with  auto 
mobiles,  especially  in  chauffeurs. 

No.  4.  Hoping  that  things  which  have  begun  to  go  wrong 
with  a  motor  will  mend,  should  be  like  an  atheist's  definition  of 
faith :  "believing  what  you  know  is  n't  true."  If  you  think  a  bear 
ing  is  hot,  but  hope  against  hope  it 's  only  oil  you  smell,  make  up 
your  mind  that  it  is  the  bearing. 

No.  5.  Never  dream  that  you  '11  get  anywhere  sooner  than 
you  thought  you  would,  for  it  will  always  be  later;  or  that  a  road 
may  improve,  for  it  is  sure  to  grow  worse ;  or  that  your  chauffeur, 
or  anyone  you  meet,  knows  anything  about  the  country  through 
which  you  are  to  pass,  for  every  one  will  direct  you  the  wrong 
way. 

No.  6.  If  your  chauffeur  tells  you  that  your  car  will  be  ready 
in  an  hour,  it  will  be  three,  if  not  four;  if  he  says  that  you  can  start 
on  again  that  afternoon,  it  will  be  to-morrow  before  lunch. 

No.  7.  Put  not  your  trust  in  Princes,  nor  in  the  motor-cars  of 
Princes. 


158  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

No.  8.  Cultivate  your  bump  of  presence  of  mind,  and  the 
automobile  will  see  that  you  have  plenty  of  other  bumps. 

We  had  n't  got  half  to  the  end  of  the  rules  we  had  thought  of, 
when  things  began  to  happen.  The  road,  which  had  been  splen 
did  all  the  way  to  Asti  and  beyond,  seemed  suddenly  to  weary  of 
virtue  and  turn  eagerly  to  vice.  It  grew  rutty  and  rough-tem 
pered,  and  just  because  misfortunes  never  come  singly,  every 
creature  we  met  took  it  into  its  head  to  regard  us  with  horror. 
Fear  of  us  spread  like  an  epidemic  through  the  animal  kingdom 
of  the  neighbourhood.  A  horse  drawing  a  wagon-load  of  earth 
turned  tail,  broke  his  harness  as  if  it  had  been  of  cobweb  instead 
of  old  rope,  and  sprang  lightly  as  a  gazelle  with  all  four  feet  into 
another  wagon  just  ahead.  A  donkey,  ambling  gently  along  the 
road,  suddenly  made  for  the  opposite  side,  dragging  his  fruit- 
laden  cart  after  him,  and  smashed  our  big  acetylene  lamp  into  a 
brass  pancake  before  Mr.  Barrymore  could  stop.  Children 
bawled;  women,  old  and  young,  ran  screaming  up  embankments 
and  tried  to  climb  walls  at  the  bare  sight  of  us  in  the  distance; 
old  men  shook  their  sticks;  and  for  a  climax  we  plunged  deep 
into  a  tossing  sea  of  cattle  just  outside  Alessandria. 

It  was  market  day,  the  Chauffeulier  explained  hastily,  over  his 
shoulder,  and  the  farmers  and  dealers  who  had  bought  creatures 
of  any  sort,  were  taking  them  away.  As  far  as  we  could  see 
through  a  floating  cloud  of  dust,  the  long  road  looked  like  a  picture 
of  the  animals'  procession  on  their  way  to  the  ark.  Our  automo 
bile  might  have  stood  for  the  ark,  only  it  is  to  be  hoped,  for 
Noah's  sake,  after  all  he  was  doing  for  them,  that  the  creatures  be 
haved  less  rudely  at  sight  of  it,  novelty  though  it  must  have  been. 

Great  white,  classic-looking  oxen  whose  horns  ought  to  have 
been  wreathed  with  roses,  but  were  n't,  pawed  the  air,  bellow 
ing,  or  pranced  down  into  ditches,  pulling  their  new  masters 
with  them.  Calves  ran  here  and  there  like  rabbits,  while  their 
mothers  stood  on  their  hind  legs  and  pirouetted,  their  biscuit- 
coloured  faces  haggard  with  despair. 

Mamma  said  that  never  before  had  she  given  cows  credit  for 


A  CHAPTER  OF  WILD  BEASTS  159 

such  sensitive  spirits,  but  perhaps  it  was  only  Italian  ones  which 
were  like  that,  and  if  so  she  would  not  drink  milk  in  Italy.  She 
was  very  much  frightened,  too;  and  talking  of  an  automobile 
supplying  bumps,  her  grip  on  Sir  Ralph's  arm  must  have  sup 
plied  a  regular  pattern  of  bruises,  during  the  animal  episode. 

But  worse  than  the  terrified  beasts  were  the  ones  that  were  not 
terrified.  Those  were  the  most  stupidly  stolid  things  on  earth,  or 
the  most  splendidly  reckless,  we  could  n't  tell  which;  we  knew 
only  that  they  were  irritating  enough  to  have  made  Job  dance 
with  rage,  if  he  had  had  an  automobile.  What  they  did  was  to 
wheel  round  at  the  sound  of  our  horn,  plant  themselves  squarely  in 
the  centre  of  the  road,  and  stand  waiting  to  see  what  we  were,  or 
else  to  trot  comfortably  along,  without  even  taking  the  trouble  to 
glance  over  their  shoulders.  As  the  road  was  too  narrow  for  us  to 
pass  on  either  side,  with  an  enormous  ox  lolling  insolently  in  the 
middle,  refusing  to  budge  an  inch,  or  an  absurd  cow  taking  in 
finite  pains  to  amble  precisely  in  front  of  the  motor's  nose,  we  were 
frequently  forced  to  crawl  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  at  the  pace  of  a 
snail,  or  to  stop  altogether  and  push  a  large  beast  out  of  the  way. 

By  the  time  we  got  into  Alessandria,  with  its  mighty  maze  of 
fortifications,  I  was  so  weak  from  laughing  that  I  giggled  hys 
terically  at  sight  of  the  Prince  standing  in  the  doorway  of  a  hotel 
which  we  were  sailing  past.  I  pointed  at  him,  as  Maida  had 
pointed  at  Vittorio  Alfieri's  tablet,  and  Mamma  gave  a  welcome 
meant  to  drown  my  giggle.  Mr.  Barrymore  stopped,  and  His 
Highness  came  to  the  side  of  the  car. 

"  I  was  so  sorry  to  miss  you  this  morning,"  he  said,  "  but  after 
bidding  you  au  revoir  last  evening,  I  suddenly  remembered  that  I 
had  a  friend  in  Alessandria  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  long,  and  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  would  pay  him  a  visit.  After  all,  I  might 
have  saved  myself  the  pain,  as  I  found  that  he  was  away." 

"At  least  you  saved  yourself  the  pain  of  a  bad  night,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  that  would  have  been  nothing,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Indeed, 
if  there  were  hardships  to  be  borne,  I  would  have  preferred  to 
share  them  with  you." 


160  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

I  don't  know  what  would  have  happened  at  that  moment  if  I  'd 
met  Maida's  eyes,  or  Sir  Ralph's  eyes,  or  indeed,  any  eyes  on  the 
prowl;  but  all  avoided  mine. 

The  Prince  was  expecting,  or  said  that  he  was  expecting  Jo 
seph  to  arrive  at  any  instant  with  the  car.  Then  he  would  follow 
us,  and  as  we  planned  to  stop  at  Pa  via  and  he  did  not,  he  would 
be  in  Milan  before  us.  We  had  suffered  so  many  delays  at  the 
hands,  or  rather  the  hoofs  of  our  four-footed  brethren,  that  we 
had  no  time  to  waste  in  compliments  with  irrelevant  Princes,  so 
we  quickly  sped  on  again  as  well  as  the  uneven  road  would  al 
low,  leaving  behind  the  big  fortified  town  which  Mr.  Barrymore 
said  had  been  built  by  the  Lombard  League  (whatever  that  was) 
as  a  place  of  arms  to  defy  the  tyranny  of  the  Emperors. 

Though  the  road  was  poor,  except  in  bits,  and  gave  us  all  the 
bumps  mentioned  in  Sir  Ralph's  rules,  the  country  was  lovely 
and  loveable.  Grapes,  mulberries,  rice,  and  stuff  called  maize, 
which  looked  exactly  like  our  American  corn,  grew  together  like 
a  happy  family  of  sisters,  and  from  the  hills  dotted  about,  more 
thickly  than  Mamma's  crowns  on  her  toilet  things,  looked  down 
old  feudal  castles  as  melancholy  as  the  cypresses  that  stood  be 
side  them,  like  the  sole  friends  of  their  adversity. 

Of  Tortona  and  Voghera  I  carried  away  only  the  ghost  of  an 
impression,  for  we  darted  through  their  long  main  streets,  de 
serted  in  the  noon-tide  hour,  and  darted  out  again  onto  the 
straight  white  ribbon  of  road  that  was  leading  us  across  all 
Northern  Italy.  It  was  so  dusty  that  Mamma,  Maida,  and  I  put 
on  the  motor-veils  we  had  discarded  after  the  first  few  hours  of 
the  trip  till  now ;  things  made  of  pongee  silk,  with  windows  of  talc 
over  our  eyes  and  little  lace  doors  for  our  breath  to  pass  through. 
It  was  fun  when  we  would  slacken  speed  in  some  town  or  village, 
to  see  how  the  young  Italians  tried  to  pry  into  the  motor-masks* 
secrets  and  find  out  if  we  were  pretty.  How  much  more  they 
would  have  stared  at  Maida  than  at  her  two  grey-clad  compan 
ions,  if  they  had  known !  But  behind  the  pongee  and  the  talc,  for 
once  our  features  could  flaunt  themselves  on  an  equality  with 


A  CHAPTER  OF  WILD  BEASTS  161 

hers.  Even  monks,  brown  of  face  and  robe,  gliding  noiselessly 
through  wide  market  places  in  the  blue  shadows  of  hoary  cam 
paniles,  searched  those  talc  windows  of  ours  with  a  curiosity  that 
was  pathetic.  Young  officers,  with  great  dark  eyes  and  slender 
figures  tightly  buttoned-up  in  grey-blue  uniforms,  visibly  preen 
ed  themselves  as  the  car  with  the  three  veiled  ladies  would  sweep 
round  a  corner;  and  really  I  think  there  must  be  something  rather 
alluring  about  a  passing  glance  from  a  pair  of  eyes  in  a  face  that 
will  always  remain  a  mystery.  If  I  were  a  man  I  believe  I  should 
find  it  so.  Anyway,  it 's  fun  for  a  girl  to  guess  how  she  would  feel 
about  things  if  she  were  a  man.  I  suppose  though,  we  're 
generally  wrong. 

After  we  'd  frightened  enough  horses  and  other  domestic  ani 
mals  to  overstock  the  whole  of  Northern  Italy  and  felt  quite  old 
in  consequence  (considerably  over  thirteen),  a  sweet  peace  fell 
suddenly  upon  us.  We  had  passed  the  place  where  Napoleon's 
great  battle  was  fought,  and  Voghera,  where  we  might  have 
stopped  to  see  the  baths  but  did  n't,  because  we  were  all  too  hun 
gry  to  be  sincerely  interested  in  anything  absolutely  unconnected 
with  meals.  Then  turning  towards  Pavia,  we  turned  at  the  same 
moment  into  Arcadia.  There  were  no  more  beasts  in  our  path, 
unless  it  was  a  squirrel  or  two;  there  were  no  houses,  no  people; 
there  was  only  quiet  country,  with  a  narrow  but  deliciously 
smooth  road,  colonies  of  chestnut  and  acacia  trees,  and  tall 
growths  of  scented  grasses  and  blossoming  grain.  It  was  more 
like  a  by-path  through  meadows  than  an  important  road  leading 
to  a  great  town,  and  Mr.  Barrymore  had  begun  to  wonder  aloud  if 
he  could  possibly  have  made  a  mistake  at  some  cross-way,  when 
we  spun  round  a  corner,  and  saw  before  us  a  wide  yellow  river. 
It  lay  straight  in  front,  and  we  had  to  pass  to  the  other  side  on  the 
oddest  bridge  I  ever  saw;  just  old  grey  planks  laid  close  together 
on  top  of  a  long,  long  line  of  big  black  boats  that  moved  up  and 
down  with  a  lazy  motion  as  the  golden  water  of  the  Po  flowed 
underneath. 

"This  is  a  famous  bridge,"  said  the  Chauffeulier;  so  Mamma 


162  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

hurried  to  get  out  her  camera  and  take  a  picture,  while  we  picked 
our  way  daintily  over  the  wobbly  boards  at  a  foot  pace ;  and  an 
other  of  the  man  at  the  far  end,  who  made  us  pay  toll  —  so  much 
for  each  wheel,  so  much  for  each  passenger.  Maida  never  takes 
photographs.  She  says  she  likes  better  just  to  keep  a  picture-gal 
lery  in  her  brain.  Mamma  always  takes  them,  but  as  she  usually 
has  three  or  four  on  the  same  film,  making  a  jumble  of  Chicago 
street-cars  with  Italian  faces,  legs,  and  sun-dials,  as  intricate  as  an 
Irish  stew,  I  don't  see  that  in  the  end  they  will  be  much  of  an  or 
nament  to  the  journal  of  travel  we  're  all  keeping. 

"  This  is  where  the  Po  and  the  Ticino  meet,  so  we  're  near 
Pavia,"  Mr.  Barrymore  told  us;  and  if  our  eyes  brightened  be 
hind  our  masks,  it  was  n't  so  much  with  interest  in  his  informa 
tion,  as  at  the  thought  of  lunch.  For  we  were  to  lunch  at  Pavia, 
before  seeing  the  Certosa  that  Maida  had  been  talking  about  for 
hours  writh  the  Chauffeulier;  and  before  us,  as  we  crossed  the  Ti 
cino  —  bridged  by  a  dear,  old,  arching,  wooden-roofed  thing 
supported  with  a  hundred  granite  columns  —  bubbled  and 
soared  a  group  of  grey  domes  and  campaniles  against  a  tur 
quoise  sky. 

The  roofed  bridge,  that  seemed  to  be  a  lounging  place  and 
promenade,  led  into  a  stately  city,  which  impressed  me  as  a  regu 
lar  factory  for  turning  out  Italian  history,  so  old  it  was,  and  so 
conscious,  in  a  dignified  kind  of  way,  of  its  own  impressiveness. 
I  felt  sure  that,  if  I  could  only  remember,  I  must  have  studied 
heaps  of  things  about  this  place  at  school ;  and  the  town  was  full 
of  students  who  were  probably  studying  them,  with  more  profit, 
now.  They  were  very  Italian,  very  good-looking,  very  young 
youths,  indeed;  and  they  were  all  so  interested  in  us  that  it  seem 
ed  ungrateful  not  to  pay  more  attention  to  them  than  to  their 
background.  They  grouped  round  our  automobile  with  a  crowd 
of  less  interesting  people,  when  we  had  stopped  before  a  hotel, 
and  some  of  the  students  came  so  close  in  the  hope  of  seeing  what 
was  behind  the  motor- veils,  that  Maida  was  embarrassed,  and 
Mamma  and  I  pretended  to  be. 


XIV 
A  CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW 

MAMMA'S  lunch  was  spoiled  because,  in  pronouncing 
"  campanile  "  for  the  first  time,  she  rhymed  it  with 
the  river  Nile,  and  realized  what  she  had  done  when 
some  one  else  soon  after  inadvertently  said  it  in  the 
right  way.  She  did  n't  get  over  this  for  a  long  time,  so  the  land 
lord  profited,  and  must  have  been  pleased,  as  all  the  Italians  at 
the  table  d'hote  took  twice  of  everything.    Those  who  were  not 
officers  were  middle-aged  men  with  fat  smiles  which  made  them 
look  like  what  I  call  "  drummers,"  and  Sir  Ralph  wastes  time  in 
naming  commercial  travellers.  He  and  Mr.  Barrymore  explained 
that,  at  all  these  quiet  provincial  hotels  with  their  domed  roofs 
and  painted  ceilings,  their  long  tables  and  great  flasks  of  wine 
hung  in  metal  slings,  more  than  half  the  customers  come  every 
day  to  eat  steadily  through  cheap  monthly  subscriptions. 

"  They  can  live  like  fighting  cocks  for  next  to  nothing,"  said 
Sir  Ralph.  ''If  The  Riviera  Sun  ever  suffers  an  eclipse,  I  shall 
probably  end  my  days  in  a  place  like  this,  Pavia  for  choice,  be 
cause  then  I  can  make  my  friends  at  home  believe  that  I  live  here 
to  worship  the  Certosa." 

Now  to  make  up  for  her  slip  about  the  campanile,  Mamma  be 
gan  to  talk  about  the  Certosa  as  if  it  were  an  intimate  friend  of 
hers ;  but  though  she  hurried  to  get  out  the  word  while  Sir  Ralph's 
pronunciation  of  it  still  echoed  under  the  painted  dome,  her 
first  syllable  was  shaped  so  much  like  a  "  Shirt "  that  I  had  to 
take  a  drink  of  water  quickly.  It  is  a  funny  thing,  if  people  have 
no  ear  for  music,  and  can't  tell  one  tune  from  another,  they  don't 

163 


164  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

seem  to  hear  foreign  words  rightly,  and  so,  when  they  speak, 
their  pronunciation  is  like  "  Yankee  Doodle "  disguised  as 
"  God  Save  the  King."  It  is  that  way  with  Mamma;  but  luckily 
for  me,  Papa  had  an  Ear. 

We  had  to  pass  through  "  Pavia  of  the  Hundred  Towers  " 
after  a  look  at  the  grand  old  Castello,  and  go  out  into  Arcadian 
country  again  to  reach  the  Certosa.  Our  way  lay  northward  now 
instead  of  east,  beside  a  canal  bright  as  crystal,  and  blue  as  sap 
phire  because  it  was  a  mirror  for  the  sky.  Then,  we  turned 
abruptly  down  a  little  side  road,  which  looked  as  if  it  led  no 
where  in  particular,  and  suddenly  a  wonderful  thing  loomed  up 
before  us. 

I  don't  know  much  about  churches,  but  there  are  some  things 
which  one  is  born  knowing,  I  suppose ;  such  as  the  difference  be 
tween  really  great  things  and  those  that  don't  touch  greatness. 
One  would  n't  need  to  be  told  by  a  guide-book  that  the  Certosa  of 
Pavia  is  great  —  as  great  as  anything  ever  made,  perhaps.  Even 
"  little  Beechy  Kidder  "  felt  that  at  first  glance ;  and  then  —  there 
was  nothing  to  say.  It  was  too  beautiful  to  chatter  about.  But  it 
did  seem  strange  that  so  pure  and  lovely  a  building  could  have 
owed  its  existence  to  a  crime.  I  had  heard  Mr.  Barrymore  telling 
Mamma  that  it  was  originally  founded  in  thirteen  hundred  and 
something,  by  the  first  Duke  of  Milan  with  the  view  of  taking  off 
the  attention  of  Heaven  from  a  murder  he  had  committed  — 
quite  in  his  own  family  —  which  got  rid  of  his  father-in-law,  and 
all  the  father-in-law's  sons  and  daughters  at  the  same  time.  No 
wonder  it  took  a  whole  Certosa  to  atone  for  it,  with  statues  of  the 
founder  dotted  about,  presenting  models  of  the  church  to  the 
Virgin ;  or  praying  with  clasped  hands ;  or  having  his  funeral  pro 
cession  in  great  pomp.  But  I  did  n't  like  his  face;  arid  judging 
from  its  expression,  I  should  n't  be  surprised  if  he  were  glad  the 
Certosa  had  been  taken  away  from  the  monks  to  be  made  a  na 
tional  monument,  so  that  more  people  could  glorify  him. 

It  was  n't  until  I  had  seen  a  great  many  other  things,  however, 
that  I  made  acquaintance  with  his  Dukeship  Gian  Galeazzo  Vis- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW  165 

conti  (it  is  always  easy  to  remember  wicked  peoples'  names),  for 
at  first  sight  there  was  only  the  wonderful  gateway,  with  a 
glimpse  of  the  dazzling  marble  church,  a  splendid  great  dome, 
and  some  bewildering  towers  glittering  in  the  sun. 

Mr.  Barry  more  hired  a  youth  to  guard  the  automobile  and  the 
dog  while  we  went  in,  strange  figures  for  such  a  place,  in  our 
motoring  get-up.  I  did  n't  know  before  what  exquisite  stuff  terra 
cotta  could  be,  but  had  despised  it  in  America  as  the  thing  cheap 
statuettes  are  made  of.  Now,  when  I  saw  it  mellowed  by  centu 
ries,  combined  with  marble,  and  moulded  into  arches  and  cornices, 
and  a  thousand  marvellous  ornamentations,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  never  have  a  house  of  my  own  unless  it  could  have 
terra-cotta  window  and  door-frames,  and  chimneys,  and  every 
thing  else  besides  that  could  possibly  be  made  of  terra-cotta. 

But  the  cloisters,  great  and  small,  were  better  than  anything 
else ;  better  than  the  facade ;  better  than  the  marble  church,  with 
all  the  lovely  little  side  chapels;  better  than  anything  I  ever  saw; 
and  I  walked  about  alone,  pleased  with  myself  because,  in  spite 
of  my  ignorance,  I  had  enough  sense  of  appreciation  to  be  happy. 
Still,  I  was  n't  sorry  when  Sir  Ralph  left  Mamma  listening  with 
Maida,  to  things  Mr.  Barrymore  was  saying  about  moulded 
brick  and  terra-cotta  architecture  in  North  Italy,  to  join  me. 

"  Terry  says  there  's  something  in  the  world  more  beautiful 
than  this,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  suppose  he  's  thinking  of  Maida,"  said  I. 

"  Not  at  all.  Probably,  if  you  could  see  into  his  mind  you  'd  dis 
cover  that  he  's  wishing  you  had  n't  wandered  away  from  his  ora 
tions.  The  thing  which  he  considers  more  beautiful  is  the  cloister 
of  Monreale,  at  Palermo,  in  Sicily.  But,  then,  this  is  n't  the  part 
of  Italy  Terry  loves  best.  He  won't  begin  to  shine  till  he  gets  to 
Verona;  and  even  Verona  he  calls  only  a  charming  inn  where  the 
world's  great  travellers  have  left  mementoes  of  their  passage, 
rather  than  a  true  Italian  town  stamped  with  the  divine  genius  of 
Italy.  When  he  's  at  Venice,  he  '11  be  at  home.  You  '11  like  Terry 
in  Venice." 


166  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

"  The  question  is,  will  he  like  me  in  Venice  ?  "  I  asked,  looking 
out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  at  the  tall  Chauffeulier  in  his  leather- 
coat,  showing  a  heavenly  white  marble  doorway  to  Maida,  and 
Mamma. 

"  Of  course  he  will.  You  must  n't  be  discouraged  by  his  man 
ner.  If  only  he  thought  you  were  poor!" 

"  Shall  I  intimate  to  him  that  Maida  is  very  rich  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  I  would  n't  deceive  him  about  that.  Let  well  alone. 
All  will  come  right  in  time." 

"  Meanwhile,  I  suppose  I  must  put  up  with  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  can.  Unless  I  bore  you.  Would  you  rather  I  left  you 
alone?" 

"  No-o.  There  's  just  enough  of  you  to  fill  an  aching  void," 
said  I,  pertly.  But  he  did  n't  seem  to  mind  at  all,  and  was  very 
kind  in  telling  about  frescoes  and  things,  although  he  calls  him 
self  ignorant.  He  has  forgotten  the  boast  in  his  advertisement 
perhaps,  or  he  's  trying  to  live  up  to  it  as  well  as  he  can  when  his 
chauffeur  is  n't  available. 

We  stopped  so  long  at  the  Certosa  that  the  sun  had  gone  far 
down  the  west  as  we  walked  through  the  beautiful,  strange  gate 
way  to  the  roadside  resting-place  of  our  car. 

Where  crowds  come  from  in  the  country  is  as  mysterious  as 
where  pins  and  hairpins  go  to ;  but  anyhow,  there  was  a  wide  ring 
of  people  round  the  automobile,  in  which  our  hired  caretaker  sat 
gazing  condescendingly  on  the  throng.  When  we  arrived  on  the 
scene,  with  our  hands  full  of  scents  made  and  bottled  by  the  ban 
ished  monks,  quaint  pottery,  and  photographs  of  frescoes,  gen 
eral  interest  was  transferred  to  us,  but  only  for  a  moment.  Even 
Maida's  beauty  failed  as  an  attraction  beside  the  starting-handle 
of  the  car,  when  the  Chauffeulier  turned  it. 

"  Don't  you  see  many  motors  here  ?  "  asked  Sir  Ralph  of  our 
deposed  guard,  and  he  shook  his  head.  "  Not  one  a  month,"  he 
said,  "  though  they  say  that  some  of  the  rich  men  in  Milan  use 
them.  I  do  not  know  where  they  go." 

Almost  as  he  spoke  a  big  one  shot  by,  heading  for  Alessandria 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW  167 

and  —  who  knows  but  for  Cuneo  ?  When  we  came  to  think,  it 
was  the  first  we  had  seen  since  Ventimiglia,  though  on  the  French 
side  of  the  Riviera  the  things  had  been  a  pest  to  everybody  — • 
who  had  n't  one. 

As  we  started,  the  sinking  sun  turned  a  million  tiny  clouds 
floating  up  from  behind  the  world  into  rose-pink  marabout 
feathers,  which  by-and-by  were  silvered  round  their  curly  edges 
by  a  wonderful  light  kindled  somewhere  in  the  east.  It  grew 
brighter  and  brighter  as  the  rose-coloured  plumes  first  took  fire 
down  at  the  western  horizon,  and  then  burned  to  ruddy  ashes. 
When  half  the  sky  was  silver  up  came  floating  a  huge  pearl,  glis 
tening  white,  and  flattened  out  of  the  perfect  round  on  one  side, 
like  two  or  three  of  the  biggest  pearls  on  Mamma's  long  rope. 

Even  in  America  I  never  saw  the  sunset-glow  so  quickly 
quenched  by  a  white  torrent  of  moonlight.  But  on  this  night  it 
was  not  white ;  it  was  soft  and  creamy,  like  mother-of-pearl.  And 
as  the  opal  gleam  of  the  sky  darkened  to  deep  amethyst  the  stars 
came  out  clear  and  sparkling  and  curiously  distinct  one  from 
the  other,  like  great  hanging  lamps  of  silver,  diamond-crusted. 

All  the  world  was  bathed  in  this  creamy  light,  while  the  sky 
scintillated  with  jewels  like  the  flashing  of  a  spangled  fan,  as  we 
drove  into  the  outskirts  of  Milan. 

It  had  been  lucky  for  us  that  there  was  a  moon,  as  we  had  a 
crumpled  brass  waffle  in  the  place  of  our  big  lamp ;  but  the  effect 
of  the  town  lights,  orange-yellow  mingling  with  the  white  radiance 
pouring  down  from  the  sky,  was  wonderful  and  mysterious  on 
arched  gateways,  on  dark  f^ades  of  tall  buildings,  on  statues,  on 
columns,  on  fountains.  Coming  in  out  of  the  country  stillness,  the 
noise  and  rush  of  the  big  city  seemed  appalling.  Fierce  electric 
trams  dashed  clanging  and  flashing  in  all  directions,  making  a 
pandemonium  worse  than  Chicago  or  the  streets  of  Paris.  Horses 
and  carts  darted  across  the  glittering  tracks  under  our  noses, 
bicyclists  spun  between  our  car  and  lumbering  hotel  omnibuses, 
and  had  n't  an  inch  to  spare.  In  the  middle  of  one  huge  street 
was  something  that  looked  like  a  Roman  ruin,  with  every  shadow 


168  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

sharp  as  a  point  of  jet  in  the  confused  blending  of  light.  Brazen 
bells  boomed,  mellow  chimes  fluted,  church  clocks  mingled  their 
voices,  each  trying  to  tell  the  hour  first;  and  to  add  to  the  bewil 
dering  effect  of  our  entry,  drivers  and  people  on  foot  waved  their 
arms,  yelling  wildly  something  I  could  n't  understand. 

Mr.  Barrymore  understood,  however,  and  only  just  in  time  to 
save  an  accident,  for  it  seemed  that  we  were  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  road.  Suddenly  and  arbitrarily  it  was  the  rule  to  keep  on  the 
left  side  instead  of  the  right,  and  the  Chauffeulier  shot  across  be 
fore  a  tram,  approaching  at  the  speed  of  a  train,  could  run  us 
down. 

"That 's  the  worst  of  this  part  of  Italy,"  I  heard  him  shout 
over  the  din  to  Maida.  "  Any  town  that  chooses  makes  a  different 
rule  for  itself  and  its  suburbs,  and  then  expects  strangers  to  know 
by  instinct  just  where  and  when  it  changes." 

It  was  like  being  shot  out  of  a  catapult  from  the  Inferno 
straight  to  Paradise,  as  Sir  Ralph  said,  when  suddenly  we  saved 
ourselves  from  the  hurly-burly,  flashing  into  a  noble  square  with 
room  for  a  thousand  street-cars  and  as  many  automobiles  to 
browse  together  in  peace  and  harmony. 

A  mass  of  glimmering  white  towers  and  pinnacles,  the  Cathe 
dral  rose,  a  miracle  of  beauty  in  the  flood  of  moonlight  that 
turned  grey  into  white,  old  marble  into  snow,  and  gave  to  each  of 
the  myriad  carvings  the  lace-like  delicacy  of  frost-work. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  see  the  Duomo  first  by  moonlight,"  said  Mr. 
Barrymore,  after  we  had  sat  still,  gazing  up  for  some  moments, 
with  even  the  car  motionless  and  silent.  "To-morrow  morning 
you  can  come  again  for  the  detail,  and  spend  as  much  time  as  you 
like  inside,  for  I  hope  it  won't  take  us  many  hours  to  run  to  Bel- 
lagio;  but  you  will  never  forget  to-night's  impression." 

"I  shall  never  forget  anything  that  has  happened,  or  that 
we  've  seen  on  this  trip,"  Maida  answered,  in  a  voice  that  told  me 
how  much  she  felt  her  words.  But  if  she  had  anything  more  to 
say  the  motor  impolitely  drowned  it,  and  we  were  whirled  away 
again  via  pandemonium,  to  quite  a  grand  hotel. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW  169 

The  first  person  we  met  in  a  big,  square  hall  full  of  wicker 
chairs  and  tables,  was  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm,  in  evening  dress, 
looking  as  calm  as  if  he  had  never  heard  of  an  automobile.  He 
flung  agreeable  smiles  at  Maida  and  me,  but  his  real  welcome 
was  for  his  "  chere  Comtesse,"  and  she  was  delighted,  poor  dear, 
to  be  made  much  of  at  the  expense  of  two  girls,  one  a  beauty. 

"I  arrived  over  an  hour  ago,"  he  said,  "very  dusty,  a  little 
tired,  a  good  deal  hungry;  but,  of  course,  I  would  not  have 
dreamed  of  dining  without  you." 

"  Did  you  get  in  on  the  car,  or  on  the  cars,  this  time  ?  "  I  asked. 

"But  certainly  in  the  car,"  said  he,  reproachfully.  "Joseph 
met  me  at  Alessandria  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  once  started, 
we  went  as  the  wind  goes  —  a  splendid  pace,  without  a  single 
breakdown.  I  passed  your  automobile  at  Pavia,  and  thought  of 
joining  you  at  the  Certosa,  where  you  no  doubt  were  at  the  time; 
but  I  decided  that  it  would  be  more  satisfactory  to  keep  on  and 
greet  you  here.  I  knew  you  would  take  my  advice,  as  you  prom 
ised,  Comtesse,  and  come  to  this  hotel,  so  I  ventured  to  have  my 
place  laid  at  your  table  and  order  a  few  extras  which  I  thought 
you  would  like.  Have  pity,  I  beg,  on  a  starving  man,  and  make 
yourselves  ready  in  twenty  minutes." 

"  But  Mr.  Barrymore  can't  join  us  then,"  Maida  objected  to 
Mamma,  in  a  low  voice.  "  He  has  the  car  to  look  after  before  he 
can  dress,  and  after  the  good  day  he  has  given  us  would  n't  it  be 
ungrateful  to  begin  without  him  ?  " 

"  My  dear  girl,  when  all 's  said  and  done,  he  is  the  chauffeur," 
replied  Mamma,  at  her  worst  under  His  Highness's  influence.  "  It 
would  be  a  pretty  thing  if  we  were  to  keep  the  Prince  waiting  for 
him.  You  can  come  down  later  if  you  like." 

"Very  well,  I  will,"  said  Maida,  very  pink  as  to  her  cheeks 
and  bright  as  to  her  eyes.  I  did  n't  think  she  would  dare  keep  her 
word,  for  fear  Mr.  Barrymore  might  believe  she  cared  too  much 
about  him;  but  just  because  he  's  poor  and  she  imagines  he  is 
snubbed,  she  will  do  anything.  Everybody  except  the  Chauffeu- 
iier  had  been  at  table  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  hors  d'ceuvres 


170  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

and  soup,  and  fish,  had  given  place  to  beef,  when  Maida  came  in, 
dressed  in  white,  and  looking  beautiful.  As  she  appeared  at  one 
door  Mr.  Barrymore  appeared  at  another,  and  was  just  in  time 
to  pull  out  her  chair  instead  of  letting  the  waiter  do  it. 

The  Chauffeulier,  seeing  we  had  ploughed  through  half  the 
menu,  would  n't  have  bothered  with  soup  or  fish,  but  Maida  in 
sisted  on  having  both,  piping  hot  too,  though  she  never  cares 
what  she  eats;  so  the  belated  one  got  as  good  a  dinner  as  any 
body.  Whether  he  realized  that  Maida  had  waited  for  him  I 
don't  know,  but  he  was  so  unusually  talkative  and  full  of  fun  that 
I  longed  to  "  vipe  "  somebody,  feeling  as  I  did  that  his  cheerful 
ness  was  due  to  Maida's  kindness.  Unfortunately  there  was  no 
excuse  for  viping;  but  I  suddenly  thought  how  I  could  throw  a 
little  cold  water.  "  Have  you  noticed,  Mr.  Barrymore,"  I  asked, 
"that  my  cousin  Maida  never  wears  anything  except  black,  or 
grey,  or  white  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her.  "  Yes,  I  have  noticed,"  he  said,  with  an  ex 
pression  in  his  eyes  which  added  that  he  'd  noticed  everything 
concerning  her.  "  But  then,"  he  went  on,  "  I  have  n't  had  time  to 
see  her  whole  wardrobe." 

"  If  you  had,  it  would  be  the  same,"  said  I.  "  It 's  a  pity,  I  think, 
for  blue  and  pink  and  pale  green,  and  a  lot  of  other  things  would 
be  so  becoming.  But  she  's  got  an  idea  into  her  head  that  because, 
when  she  goes  back  home  a  few  months  from  now,  she  will  enter 
that  old  con  —  " 

" Beechy,  please! "  broke  in  Maida,  her  face  almost  as  pink  as 
an  American  Beauty  rose. 

"  Well,  you  are  going  to,  are  n't  you  ?  "  I  flew  out  at  her.  "  Or 
have  you  changed  your  mind  —  already  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  very  unkind,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  turning 
white  instead  of  red,  and  Mr.  Barrymore  bit  his  lip,  looking  as  if 
he  would  rather  shake  me  than  eat  his  dinner.  Then  all  at 
once  I  was  dreadfully  sorry  for  hurting  Maida,  partly  because  Mr. 
Barrymore  glared,partly  because  she  is  an  angel ;  but  I  would  have 
died  in  agony  sooner  than  say  so,  or  show  that  I  cared,  though  I 


A   CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW  171 

had  such  a  lump  in  my  throat  I  could  scarcely  swallow.  Of 
course  everybody  thought  I  had  turned  sulky,  for  I  shrugged 
my  shoulders  and  pouted,  and  did  n't  speak  another  word.  By 
and  by  I  really  did  begin  to  sulk,  because  if  one  puts  on  a  certain 
expression  of  face,  after  a  while  one  finds  thoughts  that  match  it 
stealing  into  one's  mind.  I  grew  so  cross  with  myself  and  the 
whole  party,  that  when  Mamma  said  she  was  tired  and  head 
achy,  and  would  go  to  our  sitting-room  if  Maida  did  n't  object,  I 
determined  that  whatever  happened  those  two  should  n't  have 
the  satisfaction  of  a  tete-a-tete. 

Every  one  had  finished  except  Maida  and  the  Chauffeulier,  who 
had  only  got  as  far  as  the  chicken  and  salad  stage;  and  when 
Mamma  proposed  going,  a  look  came  over  the  Prince's  face 
which  I  translated  to  myself  as,  "  Rien  a  faire  id"  Since  our  talk 
in  the  garden  at  San  Dalmazzo,  he  has  given  himself  no  more 
trouble  for  Maida  or  me ;  all  is  for  Mamma,  at  least,  when  she  is 
present ;  so  I  was  n't  surprised  when  he  said  that  he  had  several 
telegrams  to  send  off,  and  would  excuse  himself. 

"  But  about  to-morrow, "  he  exclaimed,  pausing  when  he  had 
risen.  "  Shall  you  stop  to  see  the  Cathedru-,  and  something  of 
Milan  by  daylight,  before  going  on  to  the  Lake  of  Como  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Maida  answered.  "  Mr.  Barrymore  says  we  shall 
have  plenty  of  time." 

"  He  is  quite  right,"  replied  the  Prince  so  graciously  that  I  in 
stantly  asked  myself  what  little  game  he  was  playing  now.  "  It  is 
not  far  from  here  to  Bellagio,  where  you  intend  to  stop.  You  will 
go,  of  course,  by  way  of  the  Brianza  ?  "  (This  to  the  Chauffeulier.) 

"I  suppose  we  must,"  answered  Mr.  Barrymore.  "I  don't 
know  anything  at  first-hand  about  the  road,  but  at  the  garage 
they  tell  me  motors  occasionally  do  it.  The  gradients  are  steep 
according  to  the  route-book,  but  unless  there  's  something  worse 
than  meets  the  eye  there,  our  car  will  get  through  all  right." 

"  I  have  already  driven  over  the  whole  length  of  that  road," 
said  the  Prince.  "  Not  en  automobile,  but,  no  doubt,  what  a  couple 
of  horses  can  do,  your  twelve  horse-power  car  can  do  better.  As 


172  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

for  me,  I  have  been  in  Milan  many  a  time,  and  its  sights  are  an  old 
story.  I  will  therefore  go  on  early  to-morrow  morning,  leaving 
your  party  to  follow;  for  I  have  acquaintances  who  live  in  a 
charming  villa  near  Bellagio  —  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Gra- 
vellotti  —  and  I  wish  to  ask  them  as  soon  as  possible  to  call  on 
the  Countess." 

Mamma  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  receiving  a  call  from 
a  real,  live  Duke  and  Duchess,  so  she  shed  rays  of  gratitude  upon 
the  Prince,  and  trotted  out  both  her  dimples. 

"  Come,  Beechy,"  she  said.  "  We  '11  go  now,  as  Maida  does  n't 
mind." 

"  I  have  n't  finished  my  nuts  and  raisins,  and  I  want  some  of 
those  marrons  glaces  afterwards,"  said  I.  "  I  '11  stay  and  eat 
them,  and  chaperon  Maida.  I  guess  she  needs  it  more  than 
you,  Mamma,  though  you  're  both  an  awful  responsibility  for 
me." 

That  sent  Mamma  away  with  a  vexed  rustle  of  three  separate 
layers  of  silk.  The  Prince  walked  after  her,  just  far  enough  be 
hind  not  to  step  on  her  train  (he  is  n't  the  kind  of  man  who 
would  ever  tear  a  w  ^man's  dress,  though  he  might  pull  her  repu 
tation  to  pieces),  and  Maida,  Mr.  Barrymore,  Sir  Ralph,  and  I 
were  left  together. 

Both  men  had  jumped  up  when  Mamma  rose,  but  they  sat 
down  again  when  she  had  turned  her  back,  the  Chauffeulier  (pre 
sumably)  to  finish  his  dinner,  Sir  Ralph  to  keep  me  in  counte 
nance.  But  there  was  no  more  gaiety.  My  douche  of  cold  water 
had  quenched  Mr.  Barrymore's  Irish  spirits,  and  Maida  was  de 
pressed.  I  was  the  "spoil-sport;"  but  I  "stuck  it  out,"  as  Sir 
Ralph  would  have  said,  to  the  bitter  end. 

When  we  all  streamed  into  the  big  hall  there  sat  Mamma  in  a 
corner  with  the  Prince,  instead  of  having  gone  up-stairs  to  nurse 
her  headache.  What  was  worse,  she  was  letting  the  man  teach  her 
to  smoke  a  cigarette  in  imitation  of  some  Russian  ladies  in  an 
other  corner.  They  were  puffing  away  as  calmly  as  they  breathed, 
because  it  was  the  same  thing  with  them ;  but  Mamma  was  far 


A  CHAPTER  OF  SUNSHINE  AND  SHADOW  173 

from  calm.  She  was  flirting  with  all  her  might,  and  feeling  tre 
mendously  pretty  and  popular. 

She  did  n't  see  me  until  I  had  stalked  up  behind  her.  "  Mam 
ma!"  I  said,  in  a  tone  of  freezing  virtue.  "Four  years  ago,  you 
spanked  me  for  that.  And  if  Papa  were  here  now,  what  would  he 
do  to  you  ?  " 

She  started  as  if  a  mouse  had  sprung  at  her  —  and  Mam 
ma  is  dreadfully  afraid  of  little  innocent  mice.  Then  she  began  to 
explain  and  apologize  as  if  she  had  been  thirteen,  and  I  —  well, 
I  '11  say  twenty-nine. 

I  foresee  that  I  am  going  to  have  trouble  with  Mamma. 


PART  III 

TOLD  BY  THE  COUNTESS 
XV 

A  CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS 

A  WOMAN  finds  out  a  great  many  things  about  herself 
when  she  is  automobiling.  Or  is  it  automobiling 
that  makes  new  qualities  grow  ?  I  'm  not  sure;  but 
then  I  'm  so  different  in  many  ways  from  what  I  used 
to  be  that  I  hardly  know  myself  any  more. 

Beechy  would  tell  me  that  it  's  all  owing  to  Madame  Rose- 
Blanche  of  Chicago;  but  it  is  n't  really.  She  changed  me  on  the 
outside ;  she  could  n't  change  my  disposition  —  except  that  one  is 
happier  when  one  's  pretty  than  when  one  's  a  "  trump, "  as  the 
English  ladies  say. 

But  I  used  to  hate  being  out-of-doors ;  it  seemed  such  a  waste 
of  time.  And  when  poor  Mr.  Kidder  was  alive,  I  often  thought  that 
if  I  could  be  free  to  do  exactly  as  I  liked  for  a  month,  I  'd  spend  it 
lying  on  a  sofa  among  a  pile  of  cushions,  with  a  big  box  of  candy, 
and  dozens  of  new  English  society  novels.  Yet  now  that  I  am  free 
to  do  as  I  like,  not  for  one  month,  but  for  all  the  time,  I  go  gad 
ding  around  the  world  at  twenty  or  thirty  miles  an  hour  (they  feel 
like  twice  as  many)  in  an  automobile. 

However,  it 's  just  as  if  I  had  walked  right  into  a  novel  myself, 
to  be  one  of  the  heroines.  I  've  read  a  good  many  novels  with 
young  widows  for  heroines;  in  fact,  I  prefer  them,  as  it  's  so 
pleasant  to  put  yourself  in  the  heroine's  place  while  you  read,  es 
pecially  if  you  're  interested  in  the  hero. 

In  my  novel  that  I  've  stepped  into,  there  are  three  heroes  if  I 
count  Mr.  Barrymore,  and  I  suppose  I  may  (though  he  's  only 
the  chauffeur,  as  the  Prince  often  reminds  me),  for  Beechy  says 

175 


176  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

that  Sir  Ralph  Moray  tells  her  he  comes  from  a  very  fine 
family. 

At  first  I  did  n't  know  but  Sir  Ralph  would  be  the  real  hero, 
for  by  an  odd  coincidence  he  is  twenty-nine,  which  is  my  age  — 
if  it 's  true,  as  Madame  says,  that  a  woman  has  a  right  to  count 
herself  no  older  than  she  looks.  Besides,  I  'm  very  partial  to  the 
English;  and  though  I  was  a  little  disappointed,  after  seeing  that 
advertisement  of  his,  to  learn  that  the  "  titled  Englishman  "  own 
ing  a  motor-car,  was  no  higher  than  a  baronet,  I  thought  he 
might  do.  But  somehow,  though  kind  and  attentive,  he  has  never 
shown  the  same  warm  interest  that  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  takes 
in  me,  and  then  it  is  so  romantic  that  I  should  be  buying  an  es 
tate  with  one  of  the  titles  belonging  to  the  Prince's  family.  I  can't 
help  feeling  now  that  the  Prince,  and  no  one  but  the  Prince,  is 
meant  for  the  hero  of  this  story  of  which  I  am  the  heroine.  After 
all,  what  title  sounds  so  well  for  a  woman  as  "  Princess "  ?  It 
might  be  royalty,  and  I  'm  sure  it  would  be  admired  in  Denver. 

The  change  in  me  may  be  partly  owing  to  the  excitement  of 
realizing  that  I  'm  in  a  grander  sphere  than  any  I  have  ever  en 
tered  before,  or  dared  hope  to  enter,  and  that  this  may  be  but  a 
kind  of  ante-chamber  to  something  still  grander.  Of  course  I 
might  have  gone  on  this  trip  in  the  Prince's  automobile,  if  he  had 
known  in  time  that  I  had  a  fancy  to  try  motoring,  but  perhaps  it 's 
better  as  it  is.  I  like  being  independent,  and  it 's  just  as  well  to 
have  several  men  in  the  party,  so  that  no  one  among  them  can 
think  he  's  going  to  have  everything  his  own  way. 

Who,  that  knew  me  a  few  years  —  or  even  a  few  months  — 
ago,  would  have  believed  I  could  be  perfectly  happy  sitting  all 
day  in  a  cramped  position  in  an  automobile,  covered  with  dust 
or  wet  with  sudden  showers;  tired,  hungry,  putting  up  with  all 
sorts  of  discomforts  by  the  way,  and  half  the  time  frightened  out 
of  my  wits  by  appalling  precipices  or  terrific  wild  beasts  ?  But 
happy  I  am,  happier  than  I  've  ever  been,  though  I  keep  asking 
myself,  or  Maida,  or  Beechy,  "  Why  is  it  so  nice  ?  " 

Maida  says  she  does  n't  know  why,  she  only  knows  it  is,  and 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS  177 

much  more  than  nice.  "  The  Quintessence  of  Joy-of-Life, "  that 
is  what  she  has  named  the  sensation ;  and  as  Maida  uses  it,  it  is 
sure  to  be  all  right,  though  I  must  admit  that  to  me  it  sounds 
almost  improper. 

Then  there  is  another  thing  which  strikes  me  as  queer  about 
myself  and  the  two  girls  since  we  've  been  travelling  in  an  auto 
mobile.  We  used  to  be  glad  when  a  train  journey  was  over,  and 
thankful  to  arrive  at  almost  any  place,  whether  it  was  beautiful 
or  not,  but  now  we  're  always  in  a  perfect  fever  to  go  on  —  on  — 
on.  We  shoot  into  some  marvellous  old  town,  that  we  would  once 
have  thought  worth  coming  hundreds  of  miles  just  to  see;  and 
instead  of  wanting  to  get  out  of  the  motor-car  and  wander  about, 
visiting  all  the  churches  or  museums  or  picture-galleries,  we 
think  what  a  pity  to  spoil  the  record  of  so  many  miles  in  so  many 
hours.  If  we  stop  long  of  course  it  brings  down  the  average,  and 
that  seems  nothing  less  than  a  calamity,  though  why  on  earth 
we  should  care  so  much,  or  care  at  all  (considering  we  have  our 
whole  future  before  us)  is  a  mystery.  Even  Maida,  who  is  so  fond 
of  history,  and  countries  that  have  made  history  in  dim  old  ages, 
feels  this.  She  thinks  there  is  a  motoring  microbe  that  gets  into 
your  blood,  just  as  other  microbes  do,  so  that  it 's  a  disease,  only 
instead  of  being  disagreeable  it 's  almost  dangerously  pleasant. 
You  know  you  ought  to  pause  and  do  justice  to  a  place,  says 
Maida,  but  the  motoring  microbe  wriggles  and  writhes  against 
the  decision  of  your  reason,  and  you  have  to  use  violent  measures 
before  you  can  dull  it  into  a  state  of  coma  for  a  while. 

Mr.  Barrymore  tries  to  explain  this  phenomenon  by  arguing 
that,  of  all  modern  means  of  getting  about  the  world,  motoring  is 
in  itself  the  most  enjoyable.  The  mere  journey  is  as  good  a  part 
of  your  tour  as  any,  if  not  better;  and  that 's  the  reason  why,  ac 
cording  to  him,  you  never  have  the  same  longing  to  "  get  there  " 
or  '*  stay  there  "  (wherever  "  there  "  may  be)  that  you  have  when 
you  travel  by  train,  or  boat  or  carriage.  It  is  the  thrill  of  flying 
through  the  air  at  such  a  rate  that  intoxicates  you  and  makes  you 
feel  you  are  conquering  the  world  as  you  go.  Perhaps  he  5s  right. 


178  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

But  after  all,  reasons  don't  signify  much.  The  principal  thing  is 
that  you  do  feel  so,  and  it  is  lovely. 

I  was  so  tired  after  that  long  day  from  Cuneo  to  Milan  that 
I  would  n't  get  up  to  go  and  look  at  the  cathedral.  I  'd  seen  it  by 
moonlight,  and  it  could  n't  be  better  by  day,  so  I  just  lay  in  bed, 
and  made  a  comfortable  toilet  afterwards  without  hurrying, 
which  was  a  nice  change,  and  gave  me  time  to  use  my  electric 
face-roller. 

When  the  girls  came  back,  they  were  raving  about  magnificent 
statues,  aisles,  columns,  windows,  vistas,  gargoyles,  and  saints' 
bodies  in  gorgeous  shrines  of  silver.  Beechy  had  apparently  for 
gotten  that  she  'd  been  vexed  with  me  over  night,  and  I  was  re 
lieved,  for  she  will  not  agree  with  me  about  the  Prince,  and  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  do  if  she  really  did  carry  out  any  of  her 
threats.  If  she  should  put  on  the  long  frock  she  had  before  Mr. 
Kidder  died  (which  she  says  she  's  got  with  her,  locked  up  in  her 
portmanteau),  and  should  fix  her  hair  on  top  of  her  head,  that 
would  be  just  about  the  end  of  my  fun,  once  and  for  all.  But  she 
is  such  a  dear  girl  at  heart,  in  spite  of  the  peculiarities  which  she 
has  inherited  from  poor  Simon,  I  can't  think  (if  I  manage  her 
pretty  well)  that  she  would  do  anything  to  spoil  my  first  real 
good  time  and  hurt  my  feelings. 

We  had  an  early  lunch,  and  started  about  one  with  such  a 
crowd  outside  the  hotel  to  see  us  go  away,  that  we  made  up  our 
minds  there  must  be  precious  few  automobiles  in  Milan,  big  and 
busy  city  as  it  is. 

The  whole  party  was  so  taken  up  with  the  Cathedral,  that  for 
a  while  they  could  talk  of  nothing  but  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti 
(who  seemed  to  have  spent  his  life  either  in  murdering  his  rela 
tions  or  founding  churches),  or  marble  from  the  valley  of  Tosa, 
or  German  architects  who  had  made  the  building  differ  from  any 
other  in  Italy,  or  the  impulse  Napoleon  had  given  to,  work  on 
the  facade,  or  the  view  from  the  roof  all  the  way  to  Como  with 
the  Apennines  and  lots  of  other  mountains  whose  names  I  'd 
never  heard;  but  presently  as  we  got  out  into  the  suburbs  the 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS  179 

road  began  to  be  so  awful  that  no  one  could  talk  rationally  on 
any  subject. 

We  three  Americans  were  n't  quite  so  disgusted  as  Sir  Ralph 
and  Mr.  B anymore  seemed  to  be,  for  we  are  used  to  roads  being 
pretty  bad  outside  large  cities;  but  the  gentlemen  were  very 
cross,  and  exclaimed  that  it  was  a  disgrace  to  Milan.  Our  poor 
automobile  had  to  go  bumping  and  grinding  along  through 
heaps  of  sharp  stones,  more  like  the  dry  bed  of  a  mountain  tor 
rent  than  a  road ;  and  my  nerves  were  on  edge  when  Mr.  Barry- 
more  told  us  not  to  be  frightened  if  we  heard  an  explosion  like  a 
shot,  because  it  would  only  be  one  of  the  tyres  bursting.  No  pretty 
little  ladylike  automobile,  said  he,  could  possibly  hope  to  come 
through  without  breaking  her  bones;  only  fine,  manly  motor 
cars,  with  noble  masculine  tyres,  could  wisely  attempt  the  feat; 
but  ours  would  be  all  right,  even  if  a  tyre  did  go,  for  the  damage 
could  be  repaired  inside  half  an  hour. 

Still,  the  thought  of  the  possible  explosion  that  might  go 
off  right  under  my  ears  at  any  instant  kept  me  in  a  state  of  sus 
pense  for  a  long  distance — about  thirty  kilometres,  Mr.  Barry- 
more  said;  and  then  the  way  improved  so  much  that  I  settled 
down  again.  Even  the  scenery  had  been  ugly  up  to  that  time,  as 
if  to  match  the  road,  but  it  began  to  change  for  the  better  at  pre 
cisely  the  same  moment. 

The  only  interesting  things  we  had  seen  so  far  were  peasants 
playing  bowls  in  the  villages  through  which  we  passed  (for  it 
was  a  fete  day)  and  the  curious  carts  with  wooden  frames  for 
awnings  arched  over  them,  which  gave  an  effect  as  if  the  passen 
gers  were  crowding  inside  the  white  ribs  of  some  skeleton 
monster.  Such  pretty  women  and  children  were  in  the  carts,  too; 
the  women  like  beautiful,  dark  madonnas  with  their  soft  eyes 
looking  out  from  under  graceful  head-draperies  of  black  cash 
mere,  or  blue  or  yellow  silk,  glorious  ici  colour  as  the  sun  touched  it. 

They  did  n't  seem  to  mind  the  bumping  over  the  stones,  though 
the  carts  were  springless,  but  then,  they  had  no  hats  lolloping  over 
to  one  side,  or  stays  to  pinch  in  their  waists  and  make  them  un- 


180  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

comfortable  as  I  had,  though  —  as  Beechy  says  — my  daytime 
motoring  waist  is  inches  bigger  round  than  my  evening  waist. 

I  was  glad  when  I  could  put  my  hat  straight  again,  once  for 
all,  and  have  time  to  enjoy  the  scenery  through  which,  as  I  told 
myself,  the  Prince  must  lately  have  passed  on  his  car,  perhaps 
thinking  of  me,  as  he  had  promised. 

Behind  us  was  the  great  plain  in  which  Milan  lies,  and  before 
us  soared  into  the  air  a  blue  chain  of  mountains,  looking  mys 
terious  and  inaccessible  in  the  far  distance,  though  we  were 
sweeping  on  towards  them,  charging  down  hill  after  hill  into  a 
more  exquisite  landscape  than  I  could  have  imagined,  enchant- 
ingly  Italian,  with  dark  old  chateaux  crowning  eminences  above 
fertile  fields;  pretty  brown  villages  on  hillsides  clustering  round 
graceful  campaniles  (a  word  I  've  practised  lately  with  several 
other  difficult  ones) ;  green-black  cypresses  (which  Maida  says 
seem  like  sharp  notes  in  music) ;  and  wonderful,  flat-topped  trees 
that  Mr.  Barrymore  calls  umbrella  pines. 

We  were  now  in  a  region  known  as  the  Brianza,  which  is,  it 
appears,  a  summer  resort  for  the  Milanese,  who  come  to  escape 
the  hot  weather  of  the  plains,  and  find  the  breezes  that  blow  up 
from  the  lakes  —  breezes  so  celebrated  for  their  health-giving 
qualities  that  nobody  who  lives  in  the  Brianza  can  die  under 
ninety.  There  were  a  great  many  inviting  looking,  quaint  farm 
houses,  and  big  cottages  scattered  about,  where  the  people  from 
Milan  are  taken  as  lodgers. 

I  had  forgotten  my  nervousness  about  the  tyres,  when  sudden 
ly  a  queer  thing  happened.  There  was  a  wild  flapping  and  beating 
as  if  a  big  bird  had  got  caught  in  the  engine,  while  something 
strange  and  horrifying  kept  leaping  up  and  down  with  every  re 
volution  of  the  wheels,  like  a  huge  black  snake  racing  along  with 
us  and  trying  for  a  chance  to  pounce.  It  was  so  like  a  wierd  and 
horrid  dream  that  I  shrieked ;  but  in  a  few  seconds  Mr.  Barry- 
more  had  stopped  the  car.  "  We  are  in  luck, "  said  he. 

"  Why  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Have  we  killed  the  Serpent-thing  —  what 
ever  it  is?" 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS  181 

Then  he  laughed.  "  The  Serpent-thing  is  the  outer  covering  of 
the  tyre  on  one  of  our  driving  wheels, "  he  explained.  "  And  we  're 
in  luck  because,  after  that  ghastly  road  it  is  n  't  the  tyre  itself. 
This  is  nothing;  I  '11  tear  it  off,  and  the  good  old  tyre  's  so  sound 
that  we  can  go  on  with  its  skin  off,  until  Bellagio,  when  I  '11  put 
on  a  new  one  before  we  start  again.  It  has  cracked  the  mud 
guard  in  its  gyrations,  though  fortunately  not  enough  to  make  it 
unsafe  for  the  luggage. " 

In  about  three  minutes  we  were  teuf-teufing  on  once  more ;  but 
we  had  n't  been  going  for  ten  minutes  when,  half-way  up  a  hill, 
the  motor  gave  a  weary  sigh,  and  moved  languidly,  as  if  it  were 
very  tired  and  discouraged,  yet  trying  its  best  to  obey.  We  were 
on  the  outskirts  'of  a  village  called  Erba,  and  the  automobile 
crawled  on  until  it  saw  a  little  inn,  with  a  lot  of  peasants  sitting 
in  the  cool  shade  of  an  arbour,  drinking  wine;  there  it  stopped, 
which  was  wonderfully  intelligent  of  it. 

"  The  poor  animal  wants  water  after  its  hard  work, "  said  Mr. 
Barrymore;  so  he  got  down  and  asked  a  boy  to  bring  some, 
ordering  at  the  same  time  a  siphon  of  fizzy  lemonade  for  every 
body.  While  we  were  sipping  the  cold,  sweet  stuff,  Mr.  Barry- 
more  burst  out  laughing,  and  we  all  looked  up  to  see  what  was 
the  matter.  There  was  that  silly  boy  bringing  a  pint  of  water, 
in  a  carafe,  to  pour  into  the  tank  of  the  motor;  and  he  seemed 
quite  surprised  and  disgusted  when  he  was  told  to  go  back  and 
fetch  about  twenty  litres  more. 

The  automobile  had  thoughtfully  slowed  down  in  the  one  bit 
of  shade  there  was ;  still  it  was  tremendously  hot,  and  we  realized 
that  it  was  only  the  motion  of  the  car  which  had  kept  us  from 
finding  it  out  before.  We  should  have  been  miserable  if  we  hadn't 
changed  our  tailor  motoring-costumes  for  the  holland  dresses  and 
coats  which  we  'd  bought  ready-made  at  the  last  moment,  in 
Monte  Carlo.  In  spite  of  them,  however,  we  were  glad  when  the 
water  was  in,  and  the  motor-car's  heart  began  to  beat  again. 
Then  down  went  ours,  for  after  a  dozen  throbs  the  comforting 
sound  grew  faint  and  presently  stopped.  "  There  's  no  proper 


182  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

explosion, "  Mr.  Barrymore  announced  in  a  puzzled  way.  "  I  'm 
afraid  the  petrol  I  bought  in  Milan  was  n't  very  good ;  the  Italian 
never  is  as  good  as  the  French,  though  it 's  more  expensive.  But 
perhaps  it 's  only '  tired.'  I  '11  empty  it  out  and  put  in  some  fresh." 

He  did,  but  the  poor  automobile  was  not  revived  by  the 
change;  and  Mr.  Barrymore  began  to  peer  about  in  the  inner 
workings  of  the  thing  to  see  what  had  gone  wrong.  He  examined 
the  bougie,  whatever  that  was,  and  cleaned  the  aspiration  valve 
with  petrol,  all  of  which  took  time;  and  what  with  the  heat,  and 
the  noise  the  peasants  in  the  inn-garden  made  with  their 
boules,  I  began  to  get  the  feeling  that  Beechy  calls  "  caterpillars 
in  the  spine. "  Just  when  they  were  crawling  up  and  down  my 
marrow,  however,  Mr.  Barrymore  cried  out,  "  Eureka !  it 's  the 
pump. " 

This  exclamation  did  n't  convey  much  to  me,  but  it  was  en 
couraging  that  he  seemed  pleased;  and  when  he  had  adjusted 
the  friction  roller  against  a  fly-wheel,  or  something  queer  and 
ticklish  of  that  sort,  we  flew  away  from  Erba  at  a  splendid  pace, 
as  if  the  car  had  decided  to  let  bygones  be  bygones. 

We  ran  beautifully  along  a  smooth  and  level  road  that  was  try 
ing  to  make  up  for  its  evil  past,  by  the  side  of  a  small  but  pretty 
lake,  and  it  seemed  as  if  our  troubles  were  over  at  last.  But  the 
astonishment  on  the  faces  of  the  peasants  who  stared  from  door 
ways  in  a  couple  of  very  picturesque  villages  through  which  we 
drove,  was  ominous.  Evidently  they  had  scarcely  ever  seen  a 
motor-car,  for  they  glared  at  us  as  if  we  were  antediluvian  ani 
mals.  Running  out  of  the  second  village,  Asso,  we  found  ourselves 
climbing  a  road  which  was  not  only  as  steep  as  the  side  of  a 
house,  but  so  narrow  that,  if  we  had  met  anything,  it  could  n't 
possibly  have  passed  us.  The  way  was  wild  and  eerie;  we  could 
not  tell  what  might  come  beyond  each  corner,  and  we  could  see 
nothing  but  the  roughly  climbing  road,  with  its  embankments, 
except  as  we  looked  back  and  down  into  vast  spaces  of  strange 
beauty,  like  fleeting  scenes  in  dreams. 

"  I  'm  sure  we  must  have  come  wrong.  This  can't  be  the  way 


A   CHAPTER   OF  PITFALLS  183 

that  the  Prince  meant, "  I  said.  "  It 's  more  like  a  track  for  goats 
than  automobiles. " 

"  We  have  come  right  according  to  directions, "  answered  Mr. 
Barrymore,  "  but  I  must  say,  I  rather  wonder  at  the  directions. 
According  to  Dalmar-Kalm's  account,  the  road  was  fairly  good. 
I  can  hardly  think  he  risked  this  route  for  his  own  car. " 

"  Is  there  another  he  could  have  taken  ?  "  inquired  Sir  Ralph. 

"  Yes.  He  could  have  driven  along  the  lake  as  far  as  Varenna, 
and  then  sent  his  car  across  to  Bellagio  on  one  of  the  steamers.  " 

"  My  prophetic  soul,  which  I  inherit  from  a  long  line  of 
Scotch  ancestors,  tells  me  that's  what  he  did, "  said  Sir  Ralph. 
Then  he  added  in  a  lower  voice,  "  It  would  be  like  him. "  But  I 
heard,  and  wondered  if,  after  all,  he  were  a  little  jealous  of  the 
Prince? 

"  Whether  he  did  or  not,  I'm  glad  we  did  n't, "  remarked 
Beechy.  "  This  looks  like  being  an  adventure ;  and  none  of  us  are 
old  enough  to  have  outgrown  our  love  of  adventure,  are  we, 
Mamma  ? " 

Of  course,  I  had  to  say  "  no, "  though  I'  d  been  on  the  point 
of  asking  whether  it  would  n't  be  possible  for  us  to  go  back.  We 
had  just  come  into  a  ragged  hamlet,  and  there  was  literally  no 
more  than  room  for  us  to  scrape  through  between  the  poor  stone 
houses  which  leaned  over  us  on  either  side  the  steep,  roughly 
cobbled  road.  Six  inches  less,  and  we  would  have  been  in  danger 
of  slicing  off  our  mud-guards,  upon  which  lay  a  lot  of  our  lug 
gage  as  if  on  shelves.  My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  and  I  said  so 
to  Beechy;  but  she  only  laughed,  and  replied  pertly  —  even  for 
her  —  that  she  hoped  it  was  a  good  fit,  or  should  she  pat  me  on 
the  back? 

Instead  of  smoothing  out  to  a  level  again,  as  I  hoped  against 
hope  that  it  would,  the  road  grew  steeper  with  each  quarter- 
mile,  so  steep  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  car  must  take  to  running 
down  hill  backwards.  But  always  it  went  forging  steadily  up  on 
the  strongest  speed  with  a  dependable,  bumbling  noise,  never 
once  faltering,  though  the  Col  di  Tenda  was  n't  as  steep  a 


184  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

gradient  as  this.  Certainly,  after  one's  faith  in  the  car  has  stop 
ped  wobbling,  there  was  a  kind  of  wild  pleasure  in  the  experience, 
especially  in  looking  over  one's  shoulder  at  the  valleys  lying  far 
below  us,  cut  deep  into  the  green  heart  of  the  mountain,  as  if  they 
had  been  hollowed  out  of  an  emerald.  Suddenly  the  road  gave  a 
twist,  and  instead  of  prancing  in  the  air,  lay  down  at  the  feet  of  a 
grim,  grey  town,  as  a  dog  lies  down  at  the  feet  of  his  master. 

Mr.  Barrymore  stopped  to  see  if  the  motor  had  got  hot  or  burst 
a  blood-vessel  or  anything;  but  all  was  well,  and  when  we  had 
slipped  on  our  thick  coats,  those  who  had  got  out  to  walk  the 
steepest  hills  —  Sir  Ralph  and  Beechy  — climbed  in  again.  We 
had  been  a  long  time  creeping  up,  longer  than  Mr.  Barrymore  had 
calculated,  and  the  chill  of  evening  was  in  the  air.  Besides,  we 
were  in  the  midst  of  the  mountains  now,  and  it  was  hard  to  re 
alize  that  we  had  ever  felt  too  hot.  As  we  drove  along  the  edge  of 
ridge,  a  keen  wind  caught  us.  I  shivered  and  felt  as  if  there  were 
no  more  thickness  to  me  than  a  paper  doll;  but  I  should  n't  have 
dared  to  tell  Beechy  that,  or  she  would  have  laughed,  for  I 
have  n't  got  my  weight  down  yet  to  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds.  There  was  a  gnawing  just  under  my  new  gold  belt- 
buckle  with  the  cat's-eyes  on  it,  as  if  the  cats  had  claws  as  well  as 
eyes,  and  I  remembered  that  it  was  ages  since  lunch.  Maida  and 
Beechy  never  appear  to  be  hungry  when  they  motor,  though,  so 
I  would  n't  complain,  for  fear  it  might  seem  old  and  frumpy  to 
think  of  such  material  things.  But  five  minutes  later  being  cold 
or  hungry  mattered  as  little  as  it  would  in  a  shipwreck. 

The  first  thing  that  happened  was  a  view  —  a  view  so  unex 
pected  and  so  superb  that  I  gaped  at  it  with  my  mouth  open.  So 
far  away,  so  far  below,  that  it  was  as  if  we  looked  down  from  a 
balloon  sailing  among  the  clouds,  two  lakes  were  set  like  sap 
phires  in  a  double  ring  of  mountains,  whose  greens  and  blues 
and  purples  were  dimmed  by  a  falling  veil  of  twilight.  But 
through  the  veil,  white  villas  gleamed  on  the  dark  hillsides,  like 
pearls  that  had  fallen  down  the  mountain-side,  scattering  as  they 
fell ;  and  above,  in  the  great  pale  dome  of  the  sky,  a  faint  silver 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS  185 

light  pulsed  and  quivered,  like  the  water-lights  that  one  sees  on 
the  wall  of  a  room  near  the  river.  It  was  a  searchlight  sent  out  by 
the  moon,  which  was  en  panne  somewhere  on  its  way  up  the 
horizon,  Maida  said;  and  it  was  she  who  put  some  of  those 
other  thoughts  into  my  mind ;  but  my  head  did  n't  hold  any 
of  them  long  at  that  time,  because  of  the  next  thing  that  hap 
pened. 

It  was  not  a  view;  it  was  a  plunge  that  we  took  down  into  the 
view. 

We  had  come  up  one  side  of  a  house  to  get  to  this  place  on  the 
roof,  and  now  we  began  to  slither  down  the  other  side,  which  was 
worse,  a  hundred  times  worse. 

Who  was  it  who  said,  "  A  horse,  my  kingdom  for  a  horse  ?  "  I 
think  it  must  have  been  Richard  the  Third  in  Shakspere's  play, 
which  I  went  to  see  once  in  Denver,  at  a  matinee,  and  Mr.  Kid- 
der  scolded  me  afterwards  for  wasting  my  time  and  his  money. 
Well,  I  never  sympathized  with  any  one  so  much  in  life  as  I  sym 
pathized  with  that  poor  man  (I  mean  Richard,  not  Mr.  Kidder) 
at  this  moment.  I  knew  just  how  he  must  have  felt,  though  of 
course  the  circumstances  were  somewhat  different,  automobiles 
not  having  been  invented  in  those  days,  and  he  being  on  the 
stage,  with  a  battle  going  on  behind  the  scenes,  where  it  was 
cheaper  to  produce,  I  suppose. 

But  I  would  have  given  my  money,  and  even  my  title,  for  a 
kind,  gentle  horse  (the  older  the  better)  instead  of  a  motor-car. 
A  horse,  at  his  worst,  does  n't  want  to  kill  himself,  while  an  au 
tomobile  does  n't  care  what  happens  to  it ;  and  in  these  dreadful 
moments  the  only  possible  comfort  would  have  been  in  sitting 
behind  a  thing  with  an  instinct  of  self-preservation. 

As  it  was,  I  sat  with  every  muscle  tense  and  a  feeling  as  if  my 
hair  was  standing  up  so  straight  on  my  head  that  every  hair 
pin  must  fall  out.  But  what  was  a  hairpin  more  or  less,  or  even  a 
"  transformation  "  a  little  awry,  to  a  woman  about  to  become  a 
corpse  ?  I  held  my  breath,  as  if  to  let  it  go  meant  to  lose  it  forever, 
while  that  automobile  walked  down  the  mountain  exactly  as  a 


186  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

fly  walks  down  a  long  expanse  of  wall-paper,  making  a  short  turn 
for  every  flower  in  the  pattern. 

There  was  a  flower  every  other  second  in  our  pattern,  which 
meant  a  sharp  turn  for  the  fly;  and  I  could  have  slapped  Mr. 
Barrymore  for  talking  on,  as  if  we  were  n't  in  peril  enough  to  be 
prayed  for  in  church,  about  the  Lake  of  Como  and  the  Lake  of 
Lecco,  and  Bellagio  (where  we  were  going)  on  the  promontory. 
Where  we  were  going,  indeed!  Our  only  hope,  clearly,  was  in 
heaven ;  though  I  should  have  liked  just  to  see  my  new  estate  in 
Dalmatia  first. 

I  had  to  let  my  breath  go  at  last,  and  while  snatching  another, 
I  managed  to  gasp  that  I  would  get  out  and  walk.  But  that  imp 
of  a  Beechy  (who  must,  I  sometimes  think,  be  a  changeling) 
hugged  my  arm  and  said  that  I  was  n't  to  be  "  an  old  woman, 
like  the  Prince";  that  this  experience  was  too  blissful  to  be 
spoiled  by  anybody's  nerves,  and  no  one  was  going  to  be  hurt, 
not  even  the  little  dog  from  Airole. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  I  panted. 

"Oh,  because  I  do.  And  besides,  I  put  my  faith  in  our 
Chauffeulier. " 

"You  had  better  put  your  trust  in  Providence,"  I  said  se 
verely. 

"It  has  n't  come  to  that  yet,"  was  her  flippant  reply;  and  I 
should  n't  have  been  surprised  if  white  bears  had  come  out  to 
devour  her,  for  those  mountain  fastnesses  looked  capable  of 
bears  or  worse. 

"Don't  forget  this  is  the  road  the  Prince  recommended," 
Beechy  went  on.  "  It  would  be  too  unflattering  to  our  vanity  to 
think  he  could  have  wished  to  hurl  us  to  our  death,  so  it  must  be 
all  right. " 

"  He  had  forgotten  what  it  was  like, "  I  said.  But  the  idea  did 
enter  into  my  mind  that  perhaps  he  had  thought  if  our  car  should 
break  down  we  might  be  induced  to  continue  our  journey  in  his. 
And  the  suggestion  of  so  strong  a  desire  on  his  part  to  monopo 
lize  a  certain  member  of  our  party  was  n't  wholly  unpleasant.  It 


A   CHAPTER  OF   PITFALLS  187 

gave  me  enough  warmth  round  the  heart  to  support  life  during 
the  rest  of  the  experience  which  Beechy  considered  so  "blissful. " 

I  will  say  for  Mr.  Barrymore  that  he  drove  carefully,  keeping 
the  brakes  on  all  the  time,  and  slowing  down  for  one  curve  after 
another,  so  short  and  so  sharp,  that  if  our  automobile  had  been 
much  longer  in  the  body  the  turn  could  n't  have  been  managed. 

We  had  trusted  to  Mr.  Barrymore's  judgment  about  where  we 
were  to  stop  at  Bellagio,  for  even  Sir  Ralph  had  never  done  more 
than  pass  through  the  place;  and  he  had  telegraphed  for  rooms 
at  a  hotel  on  a  high  promontory  above  the  lake,  once  the  chateau 
of  a  famous  old  Italian  family.  It  is  still  called  the  villa  Serbel- 
loni,  and  Mr.  Barrymore  had  described  the  view  and  the  garden 
as  being  so  exquisite,  that  he  had  excited  our  curiosity  and  in 
terest.  I  always  think,  too,  there  is  something  fascinating,  if  you 
are  n't  very  grand  yourself  (or  have  n't  been  till  lately),  about 
living  in  the  same  rooms  where  grand  people  have  lived.  You  can 
say  to  yourself, "  Here  the  Duchess  ate  her  Dinner,  here  she  danc 
ed,  here  she  wrote  her  letters.  In  this  garden  she  walked;  her 
eyes  looked  upon  this  view, "  and  so  I  was  particularly  attracted 
towards  the  Villa  Serbelloni,  even  though  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm 
had  suggested  several  reasons  for  our  going  to  one  of  the  hotels 
on  the  level  of  the  lake.  Of  course  I  'd  not  confided  these  reflec 
tions  either  to  Maida  or  Beechy,  for  even  Maida  is  unsympa 
thetic  about  some  things,  and  thinks,  or  says  that  she  thinks,  it  is 
horridly  snobbish  to  care  about  titles.  She  told  Beechy,  in  an  argu 
ment  they  were  having  together,  that  she  would  just  as  soon  as 
not  snub  an  English  duke  or  marquise,  just  to  show  that  there 
were  some  American  girls  who  did  n't  come  abroad  to  spend 
their  money  on  buying  a  husband  from  the  British  aristocracy. 
She  has  n't  had  a  chance  to  prove  her  strength  of  mind  in  this 
way  yet,  for  so  far  we  have  met  only  an  English  baronet; 
though  I  must  admit  that  she  's  much  nicer  to  Mr.  Barrymore, 
who  is  nobody  at  all,  than  she  is  either  to  Sir  Ralph  Moray  or  the 
Prince. 

When  we  seemed  to  be  dangling  midway  between  heaven  and 


188  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

earth,  and  the  sapphires  that  had  been  the  lakes  had  turned  into 
burnished  silver  mirrors,  Mr.  Barrymore  drew  our  attention  to  a 
high  point  of  land  running  out  into  the  water,  its  shape  sharply 
cut  like  a  silhouette  in  black  against  the  silver.  "  That  is  where 
we  shall  be  in  about  half  an  hour  more, "  said  he,  "  for  all  those 
twinkling  yellow  stars  mean  the  Villa  Serbelloni." 

I  thought  it  much  more  probable  that  we  would  be  at  the  bot 
tom  of  Lake  Como,  having  been  previously  dashed  into  pieces 
so  small  that  no  expert  could  sort  them.  But  just  as  the  moon  had 
painted  a  line  of  glittering  gold  along  the  irregular  edges  of  the 
purple  mountains  we  did  actually  arrive  on  level  ground  close 
to  the  border  of  the  lake.  Then  we  had  to  mount  again  to  the 
Villa  Serbelloni,  for  there  was  no  more  direct  way  to  it,  connect 
ing  with  the  road  by  which  we  had  come,  and  after  we  had  wound 
up  the  side  of  the  promontory  for  a  little  while  we  began  to 
drink  in  a  fragrance  as  divine  as  if  we  really  had  been  killed  and 
had  gone  straight  to  heaven. 

It  was  quite  a  different  fragrance  from  any  I  had  ever  known 
before  in  any  garden;  not  so  richly  heavy  as  on  the  Riviera, 
though  penetrating;  as  delicate,  Maida  said,  as  a  Beethoven 
symphony,  and  as  individual.  I  believe  if  I  were  to  go  blind,  and 
somebody  should  lead  me  into  the  garden  of  the  Villa  Serbelloni 
without  telling  me  where  I  was,  I  should  know  by  that  wonder 
ful  perfume.  I  can't  imagine  its  being  the  same  anywhere  else. 

At  the  sound  of  our  motor  several  people  came  out  to  the 
door  of  the  long,  white,  crescent-shaped  building,  and  among 
them,  to  my  great  pleasure,  was  the  Prince. 

"  How  late  you  are! "  he  exclaimed,  coming  to  help  me  out  be 
fore  Sir  Ralph,  or  a  very  handsome  young  man  who  was  the  man 
ager  of  the  hotel,  had  time  to  do  it.  "  I  've  been  expecting  you  for 
the  last  two  hours.  Do  you  know  that  it 's  nearly  nine  o'clock  ?  I 
began  to  be  afraid  something  had  happened.  " 

"  What  a  pity  you  did  n't  think  of  that  in  Milan ! "  snapped 
Beechy.  "  Did  you  get  Mamma  to  make  a  will  in  your  favour  last 
night?" 


A   CHAPTER  OF  PITFALLS  189 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  implored  the  poor 
Prince. 

"  I  guess  you  'd  know  that  without  asking,  if  you  'd  come  the 
way  we  have,  instead  of  taking  boats  and  things  all  over  the 
place, "  giggled  the  impossible  child,  and  then  complained  out 
aloud  that  I  was  pinching  her. 

Naturally,  the  Prince  was  too  dignified  to  bandy  words  with  a 
naughty  little  girl,  so  he  did  n't  pursue  the  subject  further,  but 
began  inquiring  particulars  of  our  adventures  as  we  went  into 
the  house  together. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  was  especially  anxious  to  arrive  ahead  of 
you  ?  "  he  asked  me,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  think  I  remember  your  explaining  last  night, "  said  I. 

"  Ah,  but  I  did  n't  give  my  most  important  reasons.  I  kept 
them  for  your  ears  alone;  and  I  hope  you  won't  be  displeased. 
Do  you  remember  telling  me  something  about  to-morrow  ?  " 

I  thought  for  a  moment.  "Do  you  mean  that  it  will  be  my 
birthday?"  I  asked. 

"  I  mean  nothing  else.  Did  you  imagine  that  I  would  forget  ?  " 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  hoped  he  had,  for  I  'd  only  mentioned  it  on 
an  impulse,  to  regret  the  words  as  soon  as  they  were  out.  A 
woman  who  is  —  well,  I  '11  say  over  twenty-eight  —  had,  per 
haps,  better  let  "sleeping  dogs  lie"  when  it  comes  to  talking 
about  birthdays,  especially  if  she  has  a  daughter  who  does  n't 
sleep,  and  never  lies  when  she  's  wanted  to.  However,  out  the 
news  had  popped  about  the  30th  of  April  being  my  birthday,  and 
the  Prince  would  hardly  believe  that  I  was  as  much  as  twenty- 
nine,  though,  of  course,  there  is  Beechy,  and  I  could  n't  well  have 
married  younger  than  fifteen.  I  murmured  something  now  about 
a  birthday  being  of  no  consequence  (I  wish  it  were  n't),  but  the 
Prince  said  that  mine  was  of  a  great  deal  to  him,  and  he  had 
made  exertions  to  arrive  early  and  arrange  a  little  surprise  for 
me. 

"  I  will  say  no  more, "  he  went  on.  "  You  will  know  the  rest 
to-morrow;  but  the  best,  not  until  evening.  " 


190  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

I  could  think  of  nothing  during  dinner  except  what  he  had 
said,  though  it  was  so  late,  and  I  'd  been  so  hungry.  And  after 
wards,  standing  on  the  balcony  outside  my  bedroom  window 
looking  down  on  a  scene  of  fairy-like  beauty,  the  wonderful  white 
moonlight  and  thoughts  of  the  Prince  seemed  to  mingle  together 
in  my  head,  like  some  intoxicating  draught.  "  Countess  Dalmar, 
Princess  Dalmar-Kalm, "  I  kept  saying  over  to  myself,  until  the 
words  wove  themselves  into  a  song  in  my  brain,  with  the  scent  of 
the  flowers  for  accompaniment. 

The  whole  house  seems  to  have  absorbed  the  perfumes  of  the 
garden,  as  if  they  had  soaked  into  the  wood.  The  corridors,  the 
bedrooms,  the  wardrobes,  even  the  chests  of  drawers,  have  the 
same  delicate  fragrance.  It  scented  my  dreams  and  told  me  where 
we  were  when  I  waked  in  the  morning,  confused  with  sleep. 


XVI 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT 

A  BIRTHDAY  must  be  happy  spent  in  such  an  ex 
quisite  place,  I  told  myself,  when  I  'd  got  up 
and  peeped  out  of  the  window  upon  a  land  of 
enchantment  —  even  a  birthday  more  advanced 
than  one  would  choose.  By  morning  light  the  lake  was 
no  longer  sapphire,  but  had  taken  on  a  brilliant,  opaque 
blue,  like  lapis  lazuli.  Umbrella  pines  were  stretched  in  dark, 
jagged  lines  on  an  azure  background.  Black  cypresses  pointed 
warning  fingers  heavenward,  rising  tall  and  slim  and  solemn,  out 
of  a  pink  cloud  of  almond  blossoms.  The  mountains  towering 
round  the  lake,  as  if  to  protect  its  beauty  with  a  kind  of  loving 
selfishness,  had  their  green  or  rugged  brown  sides  softened  with  a 
purplish  glow  like  the  bloom  on  a  grape.  And  in  the  garden  that 
flowed  in  waves  of  radiant  colour  from  terrace  to  terrace,  as  wa 
ter  flows  over  a  weir,  roses  and  starry  clematis,  amethyst  wistaria, 
rosy  azalea,  and  a  thousand  lovely  things  I  'd  never  seen  before, 
mingled  tints  as  in  a  mosaic  of  jewels. 

I  had  lain  awake  in  the  night  listening  to  a  bird  which  I  could 
almost  have  believed  a  fairy,  and,  though  I  'd  never  heard  a 
nightingale,  I  wondered  if  he  could  be  one.  He  said  over  and  over 
again,  through  the  white  hours  perfumed  with  roses  and  flooded 
with  moonlight:  "Do  look,  do  look!  Spirit,  spirit,  spirit!"  And 
so,  just  in  case  he  might  have  been  calling  me,  I  got  up  early  to 
to  see  what  he  had  wanted  me  to  see.  Then  I  was  gladder  than 
ever  that  we  had  decided  to  spend  at  least  that  day  and  another 
night  at  Serbelloni,  for  one  might  journey  to  all  four  cor- 

191 


192  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

ners  of  the  globe  and  not  find  another  place  so  magically 
beautiful. 

Although  I  was  up  so  early,  perhaps  I  spent  a  longer  time  over 
my  toilet  than  the  two  girls  do  over  theirs ;  and  when  I  was  ready 
neither  Maida  nor  Beechy  were  in  their  rooms.  I  had  opened  my 
door  to  go  down  and  look  for  them  when  I  came  face  to  face  with 
a  waiter  carrying  an  enormous  bouquet.  It  was  for  me,  with  a 
perfectly  lovely  poem  written  by  the  Prince.  At  least,  it  was  in  his 
handwriting,  so  I  suppose  it  was  by  him,  and  it  was  full  of  pretty 
allusions  to  an  "  adorable  woman, "  with  praises  for  the  gracious 
day  that  gave  her  to  the  world.  I  was  pleased !  It  was  like  going 
back  and  being  a  young  girl  again,  and  I  could  have  sung  for  joy, 
as  the  bird  did  last  night. 

The  rest  of  the  party  were  on  an  entrancing  terrace,  looking 
down  over  other  flowery  terraces  upon  the  town  of  Bellagio,  with 
its  charming  old  campanile,  and  its  grey  roofs  like  a  flock  of 
doves  clustering  together  on  the  border  of  the  lake.  The  water 
was  so  clear  and  still  that  the  big  hotels  and  villas  on  the  oppo 
site  shore  seemed  to  have  fallen  in  head  down,  and  each  little 
red-and-white  canopied  boat  waiting  for  passengers  at  the  quay 
had  its  double  in  the  bright  blue  mirror.  Clouds  and  mountains 
were  all  reflected  too,  and  it  seemed  as  if  one  might  take  one's 
choice  between  the  real  world  and  the  dream  world. 

Maida  and  Beechy  had  already  been  for  a  walk  with  Sir 
Ralph  and  Mr.  B anymore,  who  had  taken  them  up  by  a  la 
byrinth  of  wooded  paths  to  an  old  ruined  castle  which  they  de 
scribed  as  crowning  the  head  of  the  promontory.  It  had  been 
built  by  the  Romans,  and  in  the  Middle  Ages  was  the  strong 
hold  of  brigands,  who  captured  beautiful  ladies  and  terrorized 
the  whole  country.  The  girls  were  excited  about  some  secret  pas 
sages  which  they  had  found,  leading  down  from  the  ruin  to  won 
derful  nooks  screened  on  one  side  by  trees  and  hanging  over 
sheer  abysses  on  the  other.  They  wanted  to  show  also  an  old 
chapel  and  a  monks'  burying  ground  which  you  had  to  reach  by 
scrambling  down  a  narrow  stairway  attached  to  the  precipitous 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT  193 

rocks,  like  a  spider  web.  But  I  had  on  my  white  suede  shoes 
with  the  Louis  Quinze  heels,  which  look  so  well  with  a 
white  dress  and  dark  blue  silk  stockings;  besides,  I  began 
to  want  my  breakfast,  and  it  would  have  been  impolite  to  dis 
appear  before  I  thanked  the  Prince,  who  might  come  out  at 
any  moment. 

We  had  our  coffee  and  rolls  in  a  kind  of  bower  close  to  the 
terrace ;  and  afterwards  I  did  walk  along  the  level  path,  fenced  in 
with  a  tangle  of  roses  —  pink,  and  white,  and  gold,  and  crimson 
—  as  far  as  a  high  shelf,  cut  into  the  face  of  the  sheer  cliff  which 
plunges  vertically  down,  down  into  the  blue-green  water.  The 
Prince  was  my  companion,  and  he  (who  has  distinguished  friends 
in  the  neighbourhood,  which  he  has  visited  before)  told  me  a 
strange  story  of  the  place.  Once,  he  said,  the  Princes  of  Stanga 
were  lords  of  the  land  here,  and  a  certain  daughter  of  the  house 
was  famous  as  the  handsomest  and  cruellest  Princess  of  her  time. 
Despite  her  dreadful  disposition,  she  had  crowds  of  lovers,  whom 
she  used  to  invite  to  walk  with  her  by  moonlight,  after  a  tete-a- 
tete  supper.  She  would  lead  them  to  this  very  spot  on  which  we 
stood,  and  just  as  she  had  lured  them  on  to  make  a  burning  dec 
laration  of  love  she  would  give  a  laugh,  and  a  sudden  push,  which 
hurled  them  to  death  in  the  lake  far  below.  How  different,  judg 
ing  from  what  I  have  read  in  the  ladies'  magazines,  from  the 
home-life  of  our  dear  Princesses  of  to-day !  And  how  different 
from  my  habits,  if  I  am  asked  to  become,  and  do  become,  a 
Princess.  I  should  have  liked  to  throw  out  some  delicate  little 
suggestion  of  this  sort,  and  perhaps  would  have  found  the  right 
words,  had  not  Beechy  appeared  at  that  moment  with  Sir  Ralph. 
Then  my  whole  attention  was  taken  up,  as  it  had  been  during 
breakfast,  by  tactfully  staving  off  any  allusion  on  the  Prince's 
part  to  my  birthday.  All  was  in  vain,  however;  he  said  some 
thing  gallant,  and  I  was  quite  as  giddy  for  a  few  seconds  as  one  of 
the  wicked  Princess's  lovers,  lest  Beechy  should  be  in  an  impish 
mood  and  throw  out  allusions  to  my  age.  But  she  was  as  good  as 
a  kitten,  though  she  looked  at  me  in  a  naughty  way,  and  only 


194  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

said,  "  Would  any  one  believe  Mamma  was  twenty-nine  to-day 
—  if  it  were  n't  for  Me  ?  " 

When  we  went  indoors  afterwards  I  gave  her  that  ruby  heart 
ring  of  mine  that  she  likes. 

All  day  long  we  were  busy  doing  agreeable  things.  We  lunched 
down  by  the  lake  shore,  in  the  garden  of  a  big  hotel  there,  and 
afterwards  were  rowed  across  to  Cadenabbia,  in  one  of  the  can 
opied  boats,  to  visit  the  Villa  Carlotta  in  its  wonderful  terraced 
garden.  I  was  delighted  with  the  boat  and  the  man  who  rowed  us, 
in  his  white  clothes  and  scarlet  sash,  but  the  Prince  half -whisper 
ed  in  my  ear  that  he  was  going  to  show  me  something  better  in 
the  evening,  when  the  time  came  for  the  "birthday  surprise" 
about  which  I  must  please  say  nothing  —  not  even  to  Beechy. 

We  had  coffee  at  the  most  idyllic  spot  imaginable,  which  we 
reached  by  leaving  the  boat  and  mounting  rather  a  steep  path 
that  went  up  beside  a  baby  cascade.  At  the  top  was  a  shady  ter 
race,  with  arbours  of  grape  vines  and  roses,  and  a  peasant's 
house,  where  the  people  live  who  waited  upon  us.  We  had  thick 
cream  for  our  coffee,  and  delicious  stuff  with  raisins  in  it  and 
sugar  on  top,  which  was  neither  bread  nor  cake.  I  wanted  the 
recipe  for  it,  but  I  did  n't  like  to  get  any  one  to  ask;  and  perhaps  it 
would  n't  taste  the  same  in  Denver.  Oh  dear  me,  I  begin  to  think 
there  are  lots  of  things  that  won't  taste  the  same  in  Denver !  But  I 
should  love  better  than  anything  to  go  back  with  a  high  title,  and 
see  what  some  of  those  society  women,  who  turned  up  their  noses 
at  me  when  I  was  only  Mrs.  Simon  Kidder,  would  do  then.  There 
is  n't  one  who  has  a  right  to  put  crowns  on  her  baggage  or  any 
where  else,  and  I  've  got  that  already,  whatever  happens  by  and 

by- 

We  were  rowed  back  to  Bellagio  again,  and  climbed  up  by  a 
short  cut  to  the  Villa  Serbelloni  just  in  time  to  escape  a  storm  on 
the  lake.  In  a  flower-draped  cave  above  our  favourite  terrace,  we 
sat  in  garden  chairs  and  watched  the  effect,  while  Mr.  Barry- 
more  and  Sir  Ralph  talked  about  Pliny,  whose  statue  was  near 
by,  and  some  strange  old  general  of  Napoleon's  who  lived  for 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT  195 

awhile  at  the  Villa  Serbolloni,  and  terrorized  people  who  wanted 
him  to  pay  his  debts,  by  keeping  fierce,  hungry  bloodhounds  to 
patrol  the  place  night  and  day. 

When  you  are  nicely  sheltered,  to  watch  rain  falling  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  marching  like  troops  of  grey  ghosts  along  the  sky,  is 
something  like  watching  other  people's  troubles  comfortably, 
while  you  are  happy  yourself  —  though  Maida  would  think  that 
a  selfish  speech.  Anyway,  the  effect  of  that  storm  was  thrilling. 
First,  Nature  seemed  to  stop  smiling  and  grow  very  grave  as  the 
shadows  deepened  among  the  mountains.  Then,  suddenly  the 
thing  happened  which  she  had  been  expecting.  A  spurt  of  ink 
was  flung  across  the  sky  and  lake,  leaving  on  the  left  a  wall  of 
blue,  on  the  right  an  open  door  of  gold.  Black  feathers  drooped 
from  the  sky  and  trailed  across  the  roughened  water,  to  be 
blown  away  from  sight  as  the  storm  passed  from  our  lake  to 
another;  and  when  they  had  vanished,  out  came  the  sun  again  to 
shine  through  violet  mists  which  bathed  the  mountain  sides,  and 
made  their  peaks  seem  to  rise  from  a  transparent  sea. 

We  could  not  tear  ourselves  away  until  sunset;  and  by  the 
time  we  had  dressed  for  dinner,  the  rising  moon  had  traced  a 
path  of  silver  from  shore  to  shore,  across  the  pansy-purple  water, 
where  the  lights  of  Cadennabia  were  sending  golden  ladders 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake. 

I  supposed  that  we  would  dine  indoors,  but  the  arbour  where 
we  had  breakfasted  was  illuminated  with  coloured  lanterns, which 
gleamed  like  rubies  and  emeralds  and  topazes  among  the  dark 
tree  branches,  and  the  trails  of  roses  and  wistaria.  "  This  is  part 
of  my  surprise, "  said  the  Prince.  "  I  have  arranged  this  in  honour 
of  your  birthday,  dear  Countess.  No,  don't  thank  me.  Is  it  not 
my  greatest  pleasure  to  think  of  you  ?  " 

Perhaps  it  was  because  I  was  in  a  mood  to  be  pleased  with 
everything,  but  it  did  seem  as  if  I  had  never  tasted  such  a  dinner 
as  that  was.  We  had  every  delicacy  in  and  out  of  season,  a  fruit 
salad  which  is  a  specialty  of  the  house,  made  of  strawberries, 
fresh  figs,  cherries,  pineapples,  and  almonds;  and  when  I  thought 


196  MY  FRIEND  THE    CHAUFFEUR 

that  all  the  surprise  was  over,  along  the  terrace  came  a  procession 
of  green,  blue  and  rose-coloured  lights,  as  if  fairies  were  flitting 
among  the  trees.  But  the  fairies  turned  out  to  be  waiters,  bring 
ing  illuminated  ices  in  fantastic  shapes,  and  a  birthday  cake  for 
me  lighted  with  twenty-nine  tiny  wax  candles. 

All  had  been  thought  of  by  the  Prince;  and  if  there  had  been 
any  doubt  in  my  mind  before,  I  now  saw  that  he  really  loved  me 
for  myself  alone.  When  everybody  had  wished  me  good  wishes, 
blowing  out  the  candles  as  they  wished,  we  left  the  table  to  stroll 
about  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  Prince  and  I  got  separated  from 
the  others.  "  Ah,  but  this  is  n't  all, "  he  broke  in,  when  I  was 
trying  to  tell  him  how  much  I  appreciated  what  he  had  done. 
"  The  best,  I  hope,  is  to  come,  if  you  will  trust  yourself  to  me  for 
a  little  while. " 

I  was  ready  to  do  so  for  any  length  of  time,  and  when  he  had 
sent  to  the  house  for  my  wrap,  and  was  leading  me  down  a 
sloping  path  which  I  had  n't  seen  before,  my  curiosity  bubbled 
like  a  tea-kettle  beginning  to  boil. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  little  harbour  on  the  Lecco  side, " 
he  explained,  "  and  there  —  you  shall  see  what  you  shall 
see." 

"  Are  you  planning  to  run  away  with  me  ?  "  I  asked,  laughing. 
"  Perhaps, "  said  he,  "  and  as  fast  as  if  we  were  in  my  automo 
bile,  though  we  shall  travel  by  water.  " 

I  could  n't  think  what  he  meant,  until  we  arrived  at  the  har 
bour  of  which  he  had  spoken.  There,  among  two  or  three  canop 
ied  row-boats  was  one  as  different  as  a  swan  is  from  geese.  It  had 
no  canopy;  and  as  the  Prince  brought  me  down  to  the  quay,  a 
man  who  had  been  sitting  in  the  boat  jumped  up  and  touched  his 
cap,  which  was  shaped  like  a  chauffeur's.  And  sure  enough  it  was 
a  chauffeur's,  for  this  was  a  motor-boat,  which  had  been 
lent  by  friends  to  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm,  especially  for  him  to 
take  me  on  the  lake  by  moonlight. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  hurried  to  Bellagio  on  purpose  to  bor 
row  it,  and  if  we  did  not  leave  too  early  to-morrow  the  people 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT  197 

would  call  on  me  —  distinguished  people,  who  would  delight 
in  doing  honour  to  the  "  American  Countess. " 

Those  were  his  very  words ;  and  he  was  so  kind  that  I  had  n't 
the  heart  to  let  him  see  I  was  frightened  to  go  out  in  the 
motor-boat.  I  should  have  been  far  happier  in  a  slow,  comfort 
able  old  row-boat;  and  when  I  found  that  the  Prince  intended 
to  leave  the  chauffeur  behind,  and  manage  the  thing  himself, 
my  heart  felt  as  if  it  had  melted  and  begun  to  trickle  down 
between  my  ribs.  It  did  seem  hard,  just  as  I  had  got  used  to 
a  motor-car,  to  have  this  new  experience  thrust  upon  me,  all 
unprepared.  Often  I  had  thought  what  noble  sentiments  one 
ought  to  utter  while  driving  in  an  automobile,  considering  that, 
at  any  moment  your  next  words  might  be  your  last !  but  as  we 
shot  away  from  that  little  quay,  out  into  the  cold  white  path  of 
the  moon,  I  felt  that  to  save  my  life  I  could  n't  have  uttered  any 
sentiments  at  all. 

The  Prince,  however,  appeared  to  be  happy,  and  to  have  per 
fect  confidence  in  himself,  in  spite  of  the  water  looking  twice  as 
wet  as  it  had  looked  in  the  afternoon.  This  motor  was  of  the  same 
make  as  that  in  his  car,  he  said;  it  was  by  his  advice  that  his 
friends  had  bought  it,  therefore  he  understood  it  very  well,  and 
where  would  I  like  to  go  ? 

"Anywhere,"  I  answered,  as  pleasantly  as  a  woman  can, 
whose  heart  has  just  turned  to  water. 

"  If  I  could  but  flatter  myself  that  you  meant  anywhere  with 
me!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  To  me,  also,  our  destination  is  indifferent, 
provided  that  I  am  with  you  and  have  you  to  myself,  undis 
turbed  by  others  not  worthy  to  approach  you.  Do  you  know, 
Countess,  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  ever  been  alone  with  me, 
for  more  than  a  few  moments  ?  " 

"  It 's  only  been  a  few  minutes  now, "  I  faltered,  for  the  sake  of 
something  to  say. 

"  Ah,  but  it  will  be  many  minutes  before  I  give  you  up, "  said 
he,  "  unless  you  are  cruel.  " 

My  heart  began  to  beat  fast,  for  his  manner  made  me  guess 


198  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

that  something  special  was  coming,  and  though  I  had  often 
thought  such  a  moment  might  arrive,  and  decided,  or  almost 
decided,  how  I  would  act,  when  it  was  actually  at  hand  it  seemed 
more  tremendous  than  I  had  supposed. 

"  You  must  try  to  keep  me  in  good  humour,  then,"  said  I ;  but 
though  the  moon  was  beautifully  romantic,  and  I  felt  he  was 
looking  at  me  with  his  whole  soul  in  his  eyes,  I  could  n't  help 
keeping  one  of  mine  glued  on  the  steering  gear,  or  whatever  one 
ought  to  call  it,  and  wondering  whether  he  was  paying  as  much 
attention  to  it  as  he  was  to  me. 

"  I  am  more  anxious  to  please  you  than  anything  else  in  the 
world ;  you  must  have  seen  that  long  ago, "  he  went  on,  moving 
closer.  I  gave  a  little  bound,  because  the  boat  was  certainly 
going  in  zigzags,  and  he  was  so  near  that  by  accident  I  jogged 
his  elbow.  With  that,  the  boat  darted  off  to  the  left,  at  twice  the 
rate  it  had  been  going.  I  screamed  under  my  breath,  as  Beechy 
says,  and  caught  hold  of  the  seat  with  both  hands.  The  Prince 
did  something  in  a  hurry  to  the  machinety,  and  suddenly  the  en 
gine  was  as  still  as  death.  The  boat  went  on  for  a  few  yards,  as  if 
by  its  own  impetus,  and  then  began  to  float  helplessly. 

"  I  ?ve  stopped  the  motor  by  mistake, "  he  explained.  "  I  will 
start  it  again  soon,  but  let  us  remain  as  we  are  for  the  present. 
It  is  so  delicious  to  rock  quietly  on  the  little  waves  with  you 
beside  me,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  far  away.  " 

"  Oh,  but  the  waves  are  n't  so  very  little, "  I  said.  "The  water 
has  n't  smoothed  down  since  the  storm.  It  Js  awfully  nice  and 
poetic,  but  don't  you  think  it  would  be  still  nicer  if  you  just 
steered  ? " 

"I  cannot  steer  the  boat  unless  the  motor  is  working,"  he 
replied.  "  But  there  is  no  danger  of  our  being  run  down  at  this 
time.  The  moon  lights  the  water  with  a  great  white  lamp. " 

"  Yes,  but  look  at  that  big,  dark  cloud, "  said  I,  pointing  up. 
*'  It  will  be  putting  out  the  light  of  the  lamp  in  about  five  minutes. 
And  —  and  I  do  see  things  moving  on  the  water.  When  the  moon 
is  obscured,  we  might  have  a  collision.  ° 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT  199 

The  Prince  looked  up  and  saw  the  cloud  too.  "  Very  well, "  he 
said.  "  I  will  start  the  motor  at  once  on  one  condition  —  that  you 
do  not  ask  me  to  take  you  home  for  an  hour,  at  least.  " 

"  I  promise  that, "  I  answered,  quite  shyly. 

Instantly  he  set  to  work  at  the  motor;  but  it  would  n't  start. 
The  Prince  did  a  great  many  things,  and  even  lighted  dozens  of 
matches,  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  but  not  a  throb  would  the 
engine  give. 

"  I  am  afraid, "  he  announced  at  last,  in  a  voice  that  tried  not 
to  sound  cross,  "  I  'm  afraid  the  sparking-plug  is  broken. " 

"  Well  ?  "  said  I,  "  What  then  ?  Shall  we  be  drowned  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all, "  he  reassured  me,  taking  my  hand.  "  We  shall 
only  drift  about  until  some  one  comes  to  our  rescue,  as  unfortu 
nately  there  are  no  oars  on  board.  If  I  thought  you  were  not  un 
happy,  I  could  rejoice  in  the  accident.  " 

I  let  him  keep  my  hand,  but  I  could  n't  feel  as  happy  as  I 
ought,  to  be  polite.  "  It 's  —  it 's  very  interesting,  "  I  stammered, 
"  but  they  don't  know  where  we  are,  and  they  '11  never  think  to 
search  the  lake  for  us ! " 

"  The  chauffeur  will  come  to  see  what  is  wrong  if  I  do  not  get 
the  boat  back  by  a  little  after  midnight, "  said  the  Prince. 

"  A  little  after  midnight ! "  I  echoed.  "  But  that  would  be  awful ! 
What  would  they  think  ?  And  oh,  see,  the  cloud  's  over  the  moon ! 
Ugh,  how  dark  it  is.  We  shall  certainly  be  run  down.  Could  n't 
we  call  for  help  ? " 

"  We  are  a  long  way  already  from  the  shore, "  said  the  Prince; 
*'  and  besides  it  is  not  dignified  to  shout.  By  and  by  some  one  will 
come.  Meanwhile,  let  us  enjoy  ourselves.  Dear  Countess,  I  con 
fess  I  brought  you  here  to-night  —  your  birthday  night  —  for  a 
purpose.  Will  you  listen  while  I  tell  you  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Sh !  Wait  one  minute.  Are  n't  those  voices  in  the  distance,  and 
don't  you  see  something  big  and  dark  bearing  down  upon  us  ?  " 

"They  exist  but  in  your  imagination,"  answered  the  Prince; 
"  Or  is  it  only  that  you  wish  to  put  me  off  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no;  I  would  n't  be  so  rude, "  said  I.  "  Please  excuse  me.  * 


200  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

But  I  was  on  pins  and  needles,  trying  to  keep  an  eye  in  every  di 
rection  at  once  (as  if  I'd  had  a  headlight  in  my  face)  and  to 
make  the  most  of  my  situation  at  the  same  time. 

"  Then  I  will  no  longer  strain  my  patience, "  cried  the  Prince 
in  a  warm  voice.  "  Dearest  Countess,  I  am  at  your  feet. " 

And  so  he  was,  for  he  went  right  down  on  his  knees  in  the  bot 
tom  of  the  boat,  kneeling  on  my  dress  so  that  I  could  n't  have 
stirred  an  inch  if  I  'd  wanted  to,  which  I  did  n't ;  for  I  meant  to 
accept  him.  He  had  had  only  my  right  hand,  but  now  he 
seized  the  left,  too,  and  began  to  kiss,  first  one,  and  then  the 
other,  as  if  I  'd  been  a  queen. 

This  was  the  first  time  a  man  had  ever  gone  down  on  his 
knees  to  me,  for  the  Prince  is  the  only  foreign  gentleman  I  ever 
knew,  and  Mr.  Kidder  proposed  in  a  buggy.  Afraid  as  I  was  of  a 
collision,  I  was  enjoying  myself  very  much,  when  suddenly  a  hor 
rid  thing  happened.  A  great  white  light  pounced  upon  us  like  a 
hawk  on  a  chicken,  and  focussed  on  us  as  if  we  were  a  tableau.  It 
was  so  bright,  shining  all  over  us  and  into  our  eyes,  that  it 
made  everything  else  except  just  the  Prince  and  me,  and  our  boat, 
look  black,  as  if  it  were  raining  ink.  And  we  were  so  taken  aback 
with  surprise,  that  for  an  instant  or  two  we  kept  our  position  ex 
actly  as  if  we  were  sitting  for  our  photographs,  the  Prince  kneel 
ing  at  my  feet  and  kissing  my  hands,  I  bending  down  my  face 
over  his  head. 

I  never  experienced  such  a  moment  in  my  life,  and  the  thought 
flashed  into  my  head  that  it  was  Simon's  ghost  come  to  forbid 
my  second  marriage.  This  idea  was  so  frightful,  that  it  was  ac 
tually  a  relief  to  hear  a  vulgar  shout  of  laughter  coming  from  the 
other  end  of  the  light,  wherever  that  was. 

The  Prince  recovered  before  I  did,  and  jerked  himself  up  to  a 
sitting  posture  on  the  seat,  exclaiming  something  in  German, 
which  I  am  afraid  was  swearing. 

"Those  Italian  ruffians  of  the  douane,  with  their  disgusting 
search-light ! "  he  sputtered  in  English  when  he  was  recovering 
himself  a  little.  "  But  do  not  derange  yourself,  Countess.  They 


A  great  white  light  pounced  upon  us  like  a  hawk 
on  a   chicken 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT  201 

have  seen  that  we  are  not  smugglers,  which  is  one  advantage,  be 
cause  they  will  not  trouble  us  any  more. " 

All  this  time  the  light  was  in  our  faces,  and  the  hateful  cus 
toms  people  could  see  every  feature,  down  to  the  shortest  eyelash. 
When  they  did  turn  the  horrid  white  stream  in  another  direction, 
I  felt  as  weak  as  if  the  search-light  had  been  a  stream  of  cold 
water. 

I  tried  not  to  be  hysterical,  but  I  could  n't  help  crying  and 
laughing  alternately,  especially  when  the  Prince  would  have 
taken  my  hands  and  begun  all  over  again. 

'  'Ware  the  light ! "  I  gasped,  as  nervous  as  a  cat  that  hears  a 
mouse  in  the  wall.  And  though  I  really  did  want  the  Prince  to 
propose  to  me,  and  was  anxious  to  say  that  I  would  be  his  prin 
cess,  in  the  circumstances  I  was  as  thankful  as  I  was  astonished 
to  hear  Beechy's  voice  calling  to  me  across  the  water. 

In  five  minutes  more  a  row-boat  containing  all  the  members  of 
our  party  came  alongside,  and  the  lights  in  our  bow  and  theirs 
showed  us  their  faces,  though  the  moon  was  still  hiding  her  face 
in  her  hands  with  a  pair  of  black  gloves  on. 

"  We  thought  you  'd  gone  down  to  the  lake, "  said  Beechy,  "  so 
I  persuaded  the  others  to  come  too ;  but  we  never  dreamed  you 
were  in  a  motor-boat,  or  whereabouts  you  were,  till  we  saw  you. " 

I  felt  myself  get  as  red  as  fire ;  though,  when  one  comes  to  think 
of  it,  I  am  my  own  mistress,  and  Beechy  can't  keep  me  from 
doing  anything  that  I  've  made  up  my  mind  to  do. 

"  This  boat  belongs  to  a  friend  of  the  Prince's,"  I  explained. 
"  We  were  trying  it  when  it  broke  down,  and  he  has  been  exam 
ining  the  motor. " 

"  So  I  noticed, "  remarked  Beechy.  "  I  guess  you  're  a  little 
near-sighted,  aren't  you,  Prince?" 

He  did  not  answer  her,  but  explained  to  Mr.  Barrymore  the 
cause  of  the  accident,  and  asked  to  be  towed  into  harbour. 

Of  course,  my  evening  was  spoiled.  I  tried  to  laugh  it  off  and 
say  how  Providential  it  was  they  had  come  to  our  rescue;  but 
though  I  kept  telling  myself  every  minute  that  there  was  no  need 


202  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

for  me  to  mind  Beechy,  I  dreaded  meeting  her  alone.  However, 
the  evil  moment  would  n't  be  put  off  forever,  and  she  came  along 
the  balcony  from  her  window  to  mine  when  I  had  shut  myself 
up  in  my  bedroom. 

I  expected  her  to  fly  out  at  me,  but  her  manner  was  the  same 
as  usual. 

"  Want  me  to  undo  your  frock  behind,  Mamma  ?  "  she  asked. 

Then,  when  she  had  got  me  half  unhooked :  "  Tell  me  what  the 
Prince  said  when  he  proposed. " 

"  He  aid  n't  propose, "  said  I. 

"  If  he  did  n't  I  shall  ask  Sir  Ralph  to  call  him  out.  He  'd  no 
business  kissing  your  hands  unless  he  'd  proposed. " 

I  was  surprised  at  this  attitude.  But  it  made  me  feel  confiden 
tial.  "  He  had  n't  had  a  chance, "  I  volunteered.  "  He  was  just 
going  to,  when  the  search-light  —  " 

"  —  Searched.  Lucky  for  you  the  interruption  came  at  the 
right  moment. " 

" Why?  I  thought  - 

"  Because  it  saved  you  the  pain  of  refusing  him. " 

"But,  Beechy  darling,  I  don't  think  I  was  going  to  refuse 
him. " 

"  Don't  you  ?  Well,  I  do.  I  'm  sure  of  it. " 

"  Dearest,  if  you  would  n't  look  at  me  in  that  square-chinned 
way !  It 's  so  like  your  poor  Papa. " 

"  I  'm  Papa's  daughter.  But  I  don't  intend  to  be  Prince  Dal- 
mar-Kalm's  step-daughter. " 

I  began  to  cry  a  little.  "  Why  do  you  always  try  to  thwart  me 
when  I  want  to  be  happy  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  That  is  n't  fair  to  say.  Look  at  my  short  dress  and  my  hair 
in  pigtails.  There's  proof  enough  of  what  I  'm  ready  to  do  to 
make  you  happy.  I  let  you  be  a  Countess,  and  you  may 
be  a  Princess  if  you  can  buy  the  title,  but  no  Princes  on  this 
ranch!" 

My  blood  was  up,  and  I  determined  to  fight.  "  Beechy, "  I  ex 
claimed.  "  I  guess  I  've  a  right  to  do  as  I  like,  and  I  will.  It 's  for 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ENCHANTMENT  203 

your  good  as  well  as  mine,  for  me  to  marry  a  title,  and  I  'm 
going  to.  I  shall  say  *  yes '  when  the  Prince  proposes." 

"  He  won't  propose, "  said  she,  suddenly  as  cool  as  if  she  had 
been  in  a  refrigerator. 

"  He  will,  the  minute  I  give  him  the  opportunity,  and  I  shall 
to-morrow ;  I  don't  care  what  you  do.  " 

"  I  bet  he  won't.  I  '11  bet  you  a  good  deal.  Anything  you  like, 
except  the  long  dress  I  've  got  in  my  trunk,  and  the  package  of 
hairpins  in  my  grip.  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  he  won't  ?  "  I  asked,  worried  by  her 
manner,  which  was  odd. 

"  I  know  he  won't.  " 

"  You  know  the  Prince  will  never  propose  to  me  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

I  flew  at  her,  and  took  her  by  the  shoulders,  as  if  she  'd  been 
seven  instead  of  —  her  present  age. 

"  You  cruel  girl ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  You  're  going  to  tell  him  how 
old  I  am,  and  —  and  a  lot  of  hateful  things.  " 

"  No,  I  'm  not,  and  for  a  good  reason.  It  would  n't  change 
his  mind.  So  long  as  your  banking  account 's  all  right,  he 
would  n't  care  if  you  were  Methusaleh.  I  shan't  tell  him  any 
thing  about  you.  I  shan't  mention  your  name.  But  he  won't  pro 
pose.  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  I  stammered. 

"That's  my  secret." 

"  Oh,  you  have  got  something  in  your  head  ?  " 

She  nodded  again.  "And  up  my  sleeve. " 

"  You  will  poison  his  mind. " 

"  No,  I  won't.  I  shall  only  —  play  dolls.  " 

And  she  went  on  unfastening  my  waist. 


PART  IV 

TOLD  BY  MAIDA  DESTREY 
XVII 

A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA 

WHAT   becomes  of  the    beautiful    army  of    days 
marching   away  from   us   into  the   past?     The 
wonderful      days,     each     one      differing     from 
all    the    others:    some    shining    in    our    mem 
ory,  in  glory  of  purple  and  gold,  that  we  saw  only  as   they 
passed,  with  the  setting  of  the  sun;  some  smiling  back  at  us, 
in  their  pale  spring  dress  of  green  and  rose;  some  weeping  in 
grey;  but  all  moving  at  the  same  pace  along  the  same  road  ?  The 
strange  days  that  have  given  us  everything  they  had  to  give,  and 
yet  have  taken  from  us  little  pieces  of  our  souls.  Where  do  the 
days  go  ?  There  must  be  some  splendid  world  where,  when  they 
have  passed  down  to  the  end  of  the  long  road,  they  all  live  to 
gether  like  queens,  waited  upon  by  those  black  slaves,  the  nights 
that  have  followed  them  like  their  shadows,  holding  up  their 
robes. 

I  've  had  this  thought  in  my  mind  often  since  I  have  been 
flashing  across  Europe  in  an  automobile,  grudging  each  day  that 
slipped  from  me  and  would  not  stay  a  moment  longer  because  I 
loved  it.  I  wish  I  knew  the  way  to  the  land  where  the  days  that 
have  passed  live;  for  when  those  that  are  to  come  seem  cold  to 
me,  I  would  like  to  go  and  pay  the  old  ones  a  visit.  How  well  I 
would  know  their  faces,  and  how  glad  I  would  be  to  see  them 
again  in  their  own  world ! 

Well,  perhaps,  even  though  I  can  never  find  the  way  there,  I 
can  see  the  days'  portraits  painted  in  rows  in  the  picture  gallery  of 
a  house  I  own.  It  is  n't  a  very  big  house  yet,  but  at  least  one  new 

205 


206  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

room  is  being  built  onto  it  every  year,  and  lately  it  has  grown 
faster  than  ever  before,  though  the  architecture  has  improved. 
Fancy  my  being  a  householder!  But  I  am,  and  so  is  everybody. 
We  all  have  the  House  of  our  Past,  of  which  we  alone  have  a 
key,  and  whenever  we  wish,  we  can  steal  softly,  secretly  in,  by 
dim  passages,  to  enter  rooms  sealed  to  the  whole  world  except 
ourselves. 

I  have  been  making  the  picture  gallery  in  mine,  since  I  left 
America;  but  the  pictures  I  care  for  most  have  been  put  up  since 
I  began  motoring. 

I  suppose  some  very  rich  natures  can  be  rich  without  travel, 
for  they  are  born  with  caskets  already  full  of  jewels;  but  ordinary 
folk  have  empty  caskets  if  they  keep  them  shut  up  always  in  one 
safe,  and  I  begin  to  see  that  mine  were  but  poor  things.  I  keep 
them  wide  open  now,  and  every  day,  every  hour,  a  beautiful  new 
pearl  or  diamond  drops  in. 

It  seems  strange  to  remember  how  reluctant  I  was  to  come 
away.  I  thought  there  could  be  nothing  more  beautiful,  more  sat 
isfying  to  eyes  and  heart,  than  my  home.  The  white,  colonial  house 
set  back  from  the  broad  Hudson  River  among  locust  trees  and  tall, 
rustling  maples ;  the  sloping  lawn,  with  the  beds  of  geranium  and 
verbena;  the  garden  with  its  dear,  old-fashioned  flowers  —  holly 
hocks,  sweet-williams,  bleeding-hearts,  grass  pinks,  and  yellow 
roses;  the  grey-green  hills  across  the  water;  that  picture  stood  to 
me  for  all  that  was  ideal  on  earth.  And  then,  the  Sisters,  with 
their  soft  ways  and  soft  voices,  their  white  robes  and  pale  blue, 
floating  veils;  how  their  gracious  figures  blended  with  and  ac 
centuated  the  peaceful  charm  of  the  scene,  shut  away  from  the 
storms  of  this  world  throughout  their  lives ! 

I  was  partly  right,  for  of  its  kind  there  could  be  nothing  more 
beautiful  than  that  picture,  but  my  mistake  was  in  the  narrow- 
minded  wish  to  let  one  suffice.  I  rejoice  now  in  every  new  one  I 
have  hung  up,  and  shall  rejoice  all  the  more  when  I  am  back 
again  myself  —  just  one  of  those  white  figures  that  flit  across  the 
old  canvas. 


A  CHAPTER   OF  MOTOR  MANIA  207 

Yes,  I  shall  be  one  of  those  figures,  of  course.  The  Mother  has 
always  told  me  it  was  my  true  vocation ;  that  peace  and  leisure  for 
reflection  and  concentration  of  mind  were  the  greatest  earthly 
blessings  a  woman  could  have.  Ever  since,  as  a  very  small  girl,  I 
longed  for  the  day  when  I  should  be  allowed  to  wear  one  of  those 
pretty,  trailing,  white  cashmere  dresses  and  long,  pale  blue  veils,  I 
have  looked  forward  to  joining  the  Sisterhood  of  good  women 
who  alone  have  ever  given  me  love  and  the  protection  of  home. 

Nothing  has  happened  to  change  my  intentions,  and  they  are 
not  changed.  Only,  I  'm  not  homesick  any  more,  as  I  used  to  be 
in  the  feverish  Paris  days,  or  even  on  the  Riviera,  when  we  did 
very  little  but  rush  back  and  forth  between  Monte  Carlo  and  Cap 
Martin,  with  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  and  his  friends. 

I  shall  go  home  and  carry  out  the  plans  I  've  had  for  all  these 
years,  but  —  I  shall  live  —  live  —  live  —  every  single  minute  till 
the  time  comes  or  my  good-bye  to  the  world. 

I  should  have  liked  to  stay  a  month  at  Bellagio  (with  the  won 
derful  garden  of  Serbelloni  to  explore  from  end  to  end),  instead 
of  the  two  days  that  we  did  stop;  still,  the  moment  our  start  was 
arranged,  I  was  perfectly  happy  at  the  thought  of  being  in  the  car 
again. 

There  was  a  discussion  as  to  how  we  should  begin  the  journey 
to  Lecco  and  Desenzano,  where  we  were  to  sleep  one  night,  for 
our  difficulty  lay  in  the  fact  that  there  's  but  one  road  on  which 
you  can  drive  away  from  the  wooded,  wedge-like  promontory 
which  Bellagio  pushes  out  into  the  lake;  the  steep,  narrow  road  up 
to  Civenna  and  down  again  to  Canzo  and  Asso,  by  which  we  had 
come.  As  our  car  had  done  the  climb  and  descent  so  well,  Mr. 
Barrymore  wanted  to  do  it  again,  perhaps  with  a  wicked  desire 
to  force  the  Prince  into  accompanying  us  or  seeming  timid  about 
the  capabilities  of  his  automobile.  But  when  Aunt  Kathryn  dis 
covered  how  easy  the  alternative  was  (simply  to  put  the  car  on  a 
steamer  as  far  as  Varenna,  then  running  along  a  good  road  from 
there  southward  to  Lecco),  she  said  that  Mr.  Barrymore's  way 
would  be  tempting  Providence,  with  whose  designs,  I  must  say, 


208  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

she  appears  to  have  an  intimate  acquaintance.  Heaven  had 
spared  us  the  first  time,  she  argued,  but  now  if  we  deliberately 
flew  in  its  face,  it  would  certainly  not  be  considerate  on  a  second 
occasion. 

I  was  ready  so  much  earlier  on  the  last  morning  than  Aunt 
Kathryn  or  Beechy,  that  I  ordered  coffee  and  rolls  for  myself 
alone  on  the  terrace;  and  they  had  just  appeared  when  Mr.  Bar- 
rymore  came  out.  He  was  going  presently  to  see  to  the  car,  so 
naturally  we  had  breakfast  together,  with  an  addition  of  some 
exquisite  wild  strawberries,  gleaming  like  cabouchon  rubies  under 
a  froth  of  whipped  cream.  It  was  only  eight  o'clock,  when  we  fin 
ished,  and  he  said  there  would  be  time  for  one  last  stroll  through 
the  divinest  garden  in  Italy,  if  I  cared  for  it.  Of  course  I  did  care, 
so  we  walked  together  up  the  rose-bordered  path  from  the  sweet- 
smelling  flower-zone  to  the  pine-belt  that  culminates  in  the  pi 
rates'  castle.  While  we  stood  looking  down  over  the  three  arms  of 
the  lake  in  their  glittering  blue  sleeves,  a  voice  spoke  behind  us : 
"  Ah,  Miss  Destrey,  I  've  found  you  at  last.  Your  cousin  asked  me 
to  look  for  you  and  bring  you  back  as  soon  as  possible.  You  are 
urgently  wanted  for  something,  though  what  was  not  confided 
to  me." 

The  Prince  used  to  be  troublesome  when  he  first  attached  him 
self  to  our  party.  If  ever  he  happened  to  meet  me  in  the  big  hall 
or  the  garden  of  the  hotel  at  Cap  Martin,  when  neither  Aunt 
Kathryn  nor  Beechy  was  with  me,  he  always  made  some  pretext 
to  talk  and  pay  me  stupid  compliments,  though  he  would  flee  if 
my  relations  came  in  sight.  After  the  trip  began,  however,  his 
manner  was  suddenly  different,  and  he  showed  no  more  desire 
for  my  society  than  I  for  his;  therefore  I  was  surprised  by  an 
equally  sudden  change  this  morning.  It  was  hardly  to  be  defined 
in  words,  but  it  was  very  noticeable.  Even  his  way  of  looking  at 
me  was  not  the  same.  At  Cap  Martin  it  used  to  be  rather  bold,  as 
if  I  were  the  kind  of  person  who  ought  to  be  flattered  by  any  at 
tention  from  a  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm.  Later,  if  he  glanced  at  me 
at  all,  it  was  with  an  odd  expression,  as  if  he  wished  me  to  regret 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA  209 

something,  I  really  could  n't  imagine  what.  But  now  there  was  a 
sort  of  reverence  in  his  gaze  and  manner,  as  if  I  were  a  queen  and 
he  were  one  of  my  courtiers.  As  I  'm  not  a  queen,  and  would  n't 
care  to  have  him  for  a  courtier  if  I  were,  I  was  n't  pleased 
when  he  attempted  to  keep  at  my  side  going  down  by  the  narrow 
path  up  which  Mr.  Barrymore  and  I  had  walked  together.  He 
did  n't  precisely  thrust  Mr.  Barrymore  out  of  the  way,  but  seemed 
to  take  it  for  granted,  as  it  were  by  right  of  his  rank,  that  it  was 
for  him,  not  the  others  to  walk  beside  me. 

I  resented  this,  for  to  my  mind  it  is  horribly  caddish  for  a  per 
son  to  snub  another  not  his  equal  in  fortune;  and  as  Mr.  Barry- 
more  never  pushes  himself  forward  when  people  behave  as  if  he 
were  their  inferior,  I  determined  to  show  unmistakably  which 
man  I  valued  more.  Consequently,  when  the  Prince  persisted  in 
keeping  at  my  shoulder,  I  turned  and  talked  over  it  to  Mr.  Bar 
rymore  following  behind.  But  on  the  terrace  level  with  the  hotel 
he  had  to  leave  us,  for  the  automobile  was  to  be  shipped  on 
board  a  cargo-boat  that  sailed  for  Varenna  some  time  before 
ours. 

"  Why  are  you  always  unkind  to  me  ?  Have  I  been  so  unfortu 
nate  as  to  vex  you  in  any  way  ?  "  asked  the  Prince,  when  we  were 
alone. 

"  I  am  neither  kind  nor  unkind,"  I  replied  in  a  practical,  dry 
sort  of  tone.  "  I  am  going  in  now  to  see  why  they  want  me." 

"  Please  don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  said  the  Prince.  "  Perhaps  I 
made  Miss  Beechy's  message  too  urgent,  for  I  had  seen  you  with 
the  chauffeur,  and  I  could  not  bear  that  you  should  be  alone  with 
him." 

"  It  is  stupid  to  speak  of  Mr.  Barrymore  as  the  chauffeur,"  I 
exclaimed  in  a  rage.  "  And  it 's  not  your  affair  Prince,  to  con 
cern  yourself  with  my  actions." 

With  that  I  darted  into  the  long  corridor  that  opens  from  the 
terrace,  and  left  him  furiously  tugging  at  his  moustache. 

"  Did  you  send  the  Prince  to  call  me  in,  Beechy  ?  "  I  asked,  af 
ter  I  had  tapped  at  her  door. 


210  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  I  happened  to  see  the  Prince  and  have  a  little  talk  with  him 
in  the  garden  a  few  minutes  ago,"  said  she,  "  and  I  told  him  if  he 
saw  you  he  might  say  we  'd  be  glad  if  you  'd  come.  Mamma  's  in 
such  a  stew  finishing  her  packing,  and  it  would  be  nice  if  you  'd 
help  shut  the  dressing-bag." 

Aunt  Kathryn  had  n't  been  herself,  it  seemed  to  me,  during 
our  two  days  at  Bellagio.  This  morning  she  had  a  headache,  and 
though  I  'd  hoped  that  she  would  walk  down  to  the  boat  with  the 
Prince,  she  decided  to  take  the  hotel  omnibus,  so  I  was  pestered 
with  him  once  more.  Beechy  and  Sir  Ralph  were  having  an  argu 
ment  of  some  sort  (in  which  I  heard  that  funny  nickname  "  the 
Chauffeulier"  occur  several  times),  and  as  Mr.  Barrymore  had 
gone  ahead  with  the  car  and  our  luggage,  the  Prince  kept  with 
me  all  the  way  through  the  terraced  garden,  then  down  the 
quaint  street  of  steps  past  the  bright-coloured  silk-shops,  to  the 
crowded  little  quay.  I  should  have  thought  that  after  my  last 
words  he  would  have  avoided  me,  but  apparently  he  had  n't  un 
derstood  that  he  was  being  snubbed.  He  even  put  himself  out  to 
be  nice  to  the  black  dog  from  Airole,  which  is  my  shadow  now, 
and  detests  the  Prince  as  openly  as  he  secretly  detests  it. 

It  was  scarcely  half  an  hour's  sail  to  Varenna,  and  ten  min 
utes  after  landing  there,  we  were  in  the  car,  bowling  smoothly 
along  a  charming  road  close  by  the  side  of  Lecco,  the  eastern  arm 
of  the  triple  lake  of  Como. 

For  a  time  we  ran  opposite  the  promontory  of  Bellagio,  with 
the  white  crescent  of  the  Villa  Serbelloni  conspicuous  on  the 
darkly  wooded  hillside.  Near  us  was  an  electric  railway  which 
burrowed  into  tunnels,  as  did  our  own  road  now  and  then,  to  save 
itself  from  extinction  in  a  wall  of  rock.  As  we  went  on,  we  found 
the  scenery  of  Lecco  more  wild  and  rugged  than  that  of  Como 
with  its  many  villas,  each  one  of  which  might  have  been  Claude 
Melnotte's.  Villages  were  sparsely  scattered  on  the  sides  of  high, 
sheer  mountains  which  reared  their  bared  shoulders  up  to  a  sky 
of  pure  ultramarine,  but  Lecco  itself  was  big  and  not  pictur 
esque,  taking  an  air  of  up-to-date  importance  from  the 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA  211 

railway  station  which  connects  this  magic  land  with  the  rest  of 
Italy. 

"  I  should  n't  care  to  stop  in  this  town,"  said  Beechy,  when 
Mr.  Barrymore  slowed  down  before  an  imposing  glass-fronted 
hotel  with  gorgeous  ornamentations  of  iron  and  a  wonderful 
gateway.  "  After  what  we  've  come  from,  Lecco  does  look  unro- 
m  antic  and  prosaic,  though  I  daresay  this  hotel  is  nice  and  will 
give  us  a  good  lunch." 

"  Nevertheless  it 's  the  Promessi  Sposi  country,"  answered  Mr. 
Barrymore. 

"What 's  that?"  asked  Beechy  and  Aunt  Kathryn  together. 
But  I  knew ;  for  in  the  garret  at  home  there  's  an  old,  old  copy  of 
"The  Betrothed,"  which  is  Manzoni's  I  Promessi  Sposi  in 
English,  and  I  found  and  read  it  when  I  was  a  small  girl.  It  was 
very  long,  and  perhaps  I  should  find  it  a  little  dull  now 
though  I  hope  not,  for  I  loved  it  then,  reading  in  delicious  se 
crecy  and  stealth,  because  the  Sisterhood  does  n't  allow  youthful 
pupils  to  batten  on  love  stories,  no  matter  how  old-fashioned.  I 
had  n't  thought  of  the  book  for  years ;  but  evidently  its  story  had 
been  lying  all  this  time  carefully  put  away  in  a  parcel,  gathering 
dust  on  some  forgotten  shelf  in  my  brain,  for  down  it  tumbled  at 
the  mention  of  the  name.  As  Mr.  Barrymore  explained  to  Aunt 
Kathryn  that  this  was  the  country  of  I  Promessi  Sposi  because 
the  scenes  of  Manzoni's  romance  had  been  laid  in  the  neigh 
bourhood,  I  could  see  as  plainly  as  if  they  lay  before  my  eyes 
the  quaint  woodcuts  representing  the  beautiful  heroine,  Lucia, 
her  lover,  Renzo,  and  the  wicked  Prince  Innominato. 

Nevertheless  I  took  some  credit  to  myself  for  remembering 
the  old  book  so  well,  and  fancied  that  there  were  n't  many  other 
travellers  nowadays  who  would  have  it.  But  pride  usually 
goes  before  a  fall,  as  hard-hearted  nurses  tell  vain  little  girls  who 
have  come  to  grief  in  their  prettiest  dresses ;  and  at  lunch  it  ap 
peared  that  the  humblest,  most  youthful  waiter  at  Lecco  knew 
more  about  the  classic  romance  of  the  country  than  I  did.  Indeed, 
not  a  character  in  the  book  that  was  n't  well  represented  in  a 


212  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

picture  on  the  wall  or  a  painted  post-card,  and  all  seemed  at  least 
as  real  to  the  people  of  Lecco  as  any  of  their  modern  fellow-  1 
citizens. 

The  landlord  was  so  shocked  at  the  idea  of  our  going  on  with-  ' 
out  driving  a  few  kilometres  to  Acquate,  the  village  where  Renzo 
and  Lucia  had  lived,  and  visiting  the  wayside  shrine  where  Don 
Roderigo  accosted  Lucia,  that  Aunt  Kathryn  was  fired  with  a  de 
sire  to  go,  though  the  Prince  (who  had  come  the  same  way  we 
had)  would  have  dissuaded  her  by  saying  there  was  nothing 
worth  seeing.  "  I  believe  you  don't  approve  of  stories  about 
wicked  Princes  like  Innominate,"  said  Beechy,  "  and  that 's  why  I 
you  don't  want  us  to  go.  You  're  afraid  we  '11  get  suspicious  if  we 
know  too  much  about  them."  After  that  speech  the  Prince 
did  n't  object  any  more,  and  even  went  with  us  in  his  car,  when 
we  had  rounded  off  our  lunch  with  the  Robiolo  cheese  of  the 
country. 

It  was  a  short  drive  to  Lucia's  village ;  we  could  have  walked  in 
less  than  an  hour,  but  that  would  n't  have  pleased  Aunt  Kathryn. 
Appropriately,  we  passed  a  statue  of  Manzoni  on  the  way  —  a 
delightful  Manzoni  seated  comfortably  on  a  monument  (with 
sculptured  medallions  from  scenes  in  his  books)  almost  within 
sight  of  the  road  to  Acquate,  and  quite  within  sight  of  Monte 
Resegno,  where  the  castle  of  wicked  Innominato  still  stands. 
Then  no  sooner  had  we  turned  into  the  narrow  road  leading  up 
to  the  little  mountain  hamlet  than  our  intentions  became  the 
property  of  every  passer-by,  every  peasant,  every  worker  from 
the  wire  factories. 

"  I  Promessi  Sposi"  they  would  say  to  each  other  in  a  matter- 
of-course  way,  with  an  accompanying  nod  that  settled  our  desti 
nation  without  a  loophole  of  doubt. 

In  Acquate  itself,  a  tiny  but  picturesque  old  village  (draped 
with  wistaria  from  end  to  end,  as  if  it  were  en  fdte),  everything 
was  reminiscent  and  commemorative  of  the  romance  that  had 
made  its  fame.  Here  was  Via  Cristoforo  ;  there  Via  Renzo; 
while  naturally  Via  Lucia  led  us  up  to  the  ancient  grey  osteria 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA  213 

where  the  virtuous  heroine  was  born  and  lived.  We  went  in,  of 
course,  and  Sir  Ralph  ordered  red  wine  of  the  country,  to  give 
us  an  excuse  to  sit  and  stare  at  the  coloured  lithographs  and 
statuettes  of  the  lovers,  and  to  peep  into  the  really  beautiful  old 
kitchen  with  the  ruddy  gleams  of  copper  in  its  dusky  shadows, 
its  bright  bits  of  painted  china,  its  pretty  window  and  huge  fire 
place. 

On  a  shelf  close  by  the  fire  sat  a  cat,  and  I  attempted  to  stroke 
it,  for  it  looked  old  enough  and  important  enough  to  have  be 
longed  to  Lucia  herself.  But  I  might  have  known  that  it  would 
not  suffer  my  caresses,  for  it  's  nearly  always  so  with  foreign  cats 
and  dogs,  I  find.  The  lack  of  confidence  in  their  own  attractions 
which  they  show  is  as  pathetic  as  that  of  a  neglected  wife;  they 
never  seem  to  think  of  themselves  as  pets. 

Aunt  Kathryn  would  persist  in  talking  of  Innominato  as 
"  Abominato"  (which  was  after  all  more  appropriate),  and  the 
generous  display  of  Lucia's  charms  in  the  pictures  caused  her 
basely  to  doubt  that  most  virtuous  maiden's  genuine  merit.  "  If 
the  girl  had  n't  worn  such  dresses,  they  would  n't  have  painted 
her  in  them,"  she  argued.  "  If  she  did  wear  them,  she  was  a  minx 
who  got  no  more  than  she  might  have  expected,  prancing  about 
lonely  mountain  roads  in  such  shameless  things.  And  I  don't 
want  a  piece  of  wood  from  the  shutter  of  her  bedroom  to  take 
away  with  me.  I  should  be  mortified  to  tell  any  ladies  in  Denver 
what  it  was;  and  what  's  the  good  of  carting  souvenirs  of  your 
travels  around  with  you,  if  you  can't  tell  people  about  them  ?  " 

We  got  back  to  our  lakeside  hotel  sooner  than  we  had  thought, 
and  the  landlord  prayed  us  to  see  one  more  of  Lecco's  great 
sights.  "  It  is  not  as  if  I  asked  you  to  go  out  of  your  way  to  look  at 
some  fine  old  ruin  or  a  beautiful  view,"  fye  pleaded.  "  You  have 
seen  many  such  on  your  journey,  and  you  will  see  many  more; 
but  this  thing  to  which  I  would  send  you  is  unique.  There  is 
nothing  like  it  anywhere  else  in  the  world ;  and  to  go  will  take  you 
five  minutes." 

This  excited  Aunt  Kathryn's  curiosity,  but  when  she  heard 


214  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

that  "  it "  was  only  a  wonderful  model  of  the  cathedral  at  Milan,, 
exact  in  every  smallest  detail  and  made  by  one  man,  she  thought 
that  she  would  seize  the  opportunity  of  lying  down  while  the 
others  went,  and  be  fresh  for  our  start,  in  an  hour's  time. 

The  idea  of  a  model  in  wood  of  such  a  masterpiece  as  the 
Milan  Cathedral  did  n't  particularly  recommend  itself  to  me ;  but 
when  we  had  arrived  at  a  curiosity  shop,  and  been  ushered  into  a 
huge  inner  room,  I  suddenly  changed  my  mind,  for  what  I  saw 
there  was  wonderful — as  wonderful  in  its  way  as  the  great  Cathe 
dral  itself. 

It  was  the  father  of  the  man  who  showed  us  the  model,  and 
owned  the  shop,  who  had  made  the  miniature  duomo.  His  name 
was  Giacomo  Mattarelli,  and  he  was  an  extraordinary  genius, 
worthy  of  a  tomb  in  the  Cathedral  to  the  worship  of  whose  beauty 
he  devoted  twenty  years  of  his  life  and  sacrificed  those  which 
remained. 

The  story  of  his  self-appointed  task  struck  me  as  being  as  mar 
vellous  as  the  task's  result,  which  stood  there  in  the  dim  room, 
perfect  in  proportion  and  delicately  wrought  as  ivory  carved  by 
Chinese  experts.  I  don't  know  what  the  others  thought,  but  the 
tale  as  told  by  the  artist's  son  was  for  me  full  of  pathos  and  beau 
tiful  sentiment. 

The  man  had  been  a  cabinet-maker  by  trade,  but  he  had 
money  and  could  gratify  his  craving  for  art.  The  glory  of  the 
Milan  Cathedral,  seen  once,  became  an  obsession  for  him,  and  he 
went  again  and  again.  At  last  the  idea  grew  in  his  mind  to  ex 
press  his  homage  in  a  perfect  copy  of  the  great  church  which,  as 
he  said,  "  held  his  heart."  There  was  no  train  between  Milan  and 
Lecco  in  his  day  (1840),  and  he  used  to  walk  all  those  miles  to 
make  drawings  of  the  Cathedral.  At  first  he  meant  to  do  the  work 
in  iron,  but  iron  was  too  heavy;  then  he  began  casting  plates  in 
copper,  but  they  were  hollow  behind,  and  he  could  not  get  the  ef 
fect  he  wanted,  so  after  several  wasted  months  he  began  again 
with  olive  wood.  Often  he  would  work  all  night;  and  no  trouble 
was  too  much  for  his  inexhaustible  patience.  Each  statue,  each 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA  215 

gargoyle  was  copied,  first  in  a  drawing,  then  with  the  carving 
tools,  and  no  hand  but  that  of  the  artist  ever  touched  the  work. 
At  the  end  of  twenty-two  years  it  was  completed;  not  a  detail 
missing  inside  or  out ;  and  then  when  all  was  done  the  modeller 
went  blind. 

Now  his  son  had  lighted  up  the  model  for  us  to  see,  and  I  was 
almost  aghast  at  the  thought  of  the  incredible  labour  it  had 
meant  —  literally  a  labour  of  love,  for  the  artist*had  given  his 
eyes  and  his  best  years  to  his  adoration  of  the  beautiful.  And  the 
whole  thing  seemed  the  more  of  a  marvel  when  I  remembered 
how  Mr.  Barrymore  had  called  Milan  Cathedral  the  most  highly 
ornamented  building  in  the  world.  Nowhere  else,  he  said,  existed 
a  church  so  smothered  with  carving.  Every  point,  every  niche  has 
its  statue.  There,  in  the  model,  one  could  find  each  one.  Through 
magnifying  glasses  the  little  carved  faces  (hardly  larger,  some  of 
them,  than  a  pin's  head)  looked  at  one  with  the  same  expression 
as  the  original,  and  not  a  mistake  had  been  made  in  a  fold  of 
drapery.  Each  sculptured  capital,  each  column,  each  decorative 
altar  of  the  interior  had  been  carved  with  loving  fidelity.  All  that, 
in  the  vast  Cathedral  had  taken  centuries  and  many  genera 
tions  of  men  to  plan  and  finish,  this  one  infinitely  patient  man 
had  copied  in  miniature  in  twenty-two  years.  It  would  have  been 
worth  visiting  the  town  to  see  the  model  alone,  even  if  we  had 
turned  miles  out  of  our  path. 

To  go  from  there  to  Desenzano  by  way  of  Bergamo  and  Bres 
cia  was  to  go  from  lake  to  lake  —  Lecco  to  Garda ;  and  the  road 
was  beautiful.  Castles  and  ancient  monasteries  had  throned 
themselves  on  hills  to  look  down  on  little  villages  cringing  at 
their  august  feet.  Along  the  horizon  stretched  a  serrated  line  of 
pure  white  mountains,  sharply  chiselled  in  marble,  while  a  thick 
carpet  of  wild  flowers,  blue  and  gold,  had  been  cut  apart  to  let 
our  road  pass  through.  It  was  a  biscuit-coloured  road,  smooth  as 
uncut  velvet,  and  fringed  on  either  side  with  a  white  spray  of 
heavenly-fragrant  acacia,  like  our  locust-trees  at  home.  Rustic 
fences  and  low  hedges  defining  rich  green  meadows,  were  inter- 


216  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

laced  with  wild  roses,  pink  and  white,  and  plaited  with  pale  gold 
honeysuckle,  a  magnet  for  armies  of  flitting  butterflies.  Every  big 
farmhouse,  every  tiny  cottage  was  curtained  with  wistaria  and 
heavy-headed  roses.  Wagons  passed  us  laden  with  new-mown 
hay  and  crimson  sorrel;  and  we  had  one  odd  adventure,  which 
might  have  been  dangerous,  but  was  only  poetic. 

A  horse  drawing  some  kind  of  vehicle,  piled  high  with  fra 
grant  clover,  took  it  into  his  head  just  as  were  side  by  side,  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  punish  his  mechanical  rival  for  existing. 
Calculating  his  distance  nicely,  he  gave  a  bound,  flung  the  cart 
against  our  car,  and  upset  half  his  load  of  clover  on  our  heads. 
What  he  did  afterwards  we  had  no  means  of  knowing,  for  we 
were  temporarily  extinguished. 

It  was  the  strangest  sensation  I  ever  had,  being  suddenly  over 
whelmed  by  a  soft,  yet  heavy  wave  of  something  that  was  like  a 
ton  of  perfumed  feathers. 

Instantly  the  car  stopped,  for  Mr.  Barrymore,  buried  as  he 
was,  did  n't  forget  to  put  on  the  brakes.  Then  I  felt  that  he  was 
excavating  me,  and  almost  before  I  knew  what  had  swallowed  me 
up  I  was  emerging  from  green  and  pink  billows  of  clover,  laugh 
ing,  gasping,  half -dazed,  but  wholly  delighted.  "You  're  not 
drowned  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"No,  I  can  swim,"  I  answered,  and  set  myself  promptly  to 
help  him  and  Sir  Ralph  rescue  Beechy  and  Aunt  Kathryn,  which 
was  rather  like  looking  for  needles  in  a  haystack. 

By  the  time  we  had  all  got  our  breath  and  wiped  the  clover  out 
of  our  eyes,  horse  and  cart  had  vanished  comet-like  into  the  hori 
zon,  leaving  a  green  trail  behind.  We  bailed  out  the  car  and  start 
ed  gaily  on  once  more,  but  presently  our  speed  slackened.  With 
out  a  sigh  the  automobile  stopped  precisely  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  and  gently,  though  firmly,  refused  to  go  on  again. 

When  Mr.  Barrymore  saw  that  this  was  more  than  a  passing 
whim,  he  called  Sir  Ralph  to  the  rescue,  Beechy  and  I  jumped 
out,  and  the  car  was  pushed  to  one  side.  Then,  with  all  of  us 
standing  round,  he  proceeded  to  search  for  the  mischief.  Appar- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA  217 

ently  nothing  was  wrong.  The  engine  was  cool ;  the  pump  gener 
ously  inclined,  and  fat  yellow  fireflies  flew  out  of  the  sparking- 
plugs  when  they  were  tested.  Then  Mr.  Barry  more  remembered 
the  cause  of  the  Prince's  first  accident,  and  looked  at  the  carburet 
ter;  but  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  speck  of  dust.  For  a  while  he 
continued  to  poke,  and  prod,  and  hammer,  Sir  Ralph  offering  hu 
morous  advice,  and  pretending  to  be  sure  that,  if  his  housekeeper 
Felicite  were  on  the  spot,  the  car  would  start  for  her  in  an  in 
stant.  The  mystery  only  thickened,  however,  and  to  make  mat 
ters  worse  the  Prince,  who  had  been  proudly  spinning  on  ahead, 
came  tearing  back  to  see  what  had  happened.  Though  he  pre 
tended  to  be  sympathetic,  he  was  visibly  overjoyed  at  our  misfor 
tune,  which  turned  the  tables  upon  us  for  once,  and  his  sugges 
tions  were  enough  to  wreck  the  valvular  system  of  a  motor-car; 
not  to  mention  the  nervous  system  of  a  distracted  chauffeur. 

"  Perhaps  the  petrol 's  dead,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  paying  no 
heed  to  the  Prince's  ideas.  He  opened  a  new  tin  and  was  about  to 
empty  its  contents  into  the  reservoir,  when  he  uttered  an  exclam 
ation.  "  By  Jove !  Just  look  at  that,  Miss  Destrey ! "  he  said ;  and  I 
could  n't  help  feeling  flattered  that  he  should  appeal  to  me  on  a 
subject  I  did  n't  know  anything  about. 

He  was  peering  at  the  small  round  air-hole  leading  down  to 
the  reservoir,  so  I  peered  too,  and  in  spite  of  my  ignorance  I  saw 
what  he  meant.  The  hole  was  entirely  stopped  up  with  the  body 
of  a  pinkish-grey  caterpillar,  and  Mr.  Barrymore  explained  that 
the  poor  car  had  simply  stopped  because  it  could  n't  breathe.  No 
air  had  been  able  to  reach  the  petrol  in  the  reservoir,  and  there 
fore  no  spirit  had  trickled  through  to  the  carburetter. 

We  had  been  delayed  for  more  than  half  an  hour  by  a  mere 
worm,  which  had  probably  arrived  with  the  clover;  but  when  the 
automobile  could  fill  her  lungs  again  she  started  on  at  a  great 
pace.  We  passed  a  wonderful  old  riverside  town,  that  had  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  churches  we  had  seen  yet ;  and  by-and-by  a 
fine  city,  set  like  a  tiara  on  the  forehead  of  a  distant  hill,  seemed 
to  spring  up,  peer  at  us  from  its  eminence,  and  then  dip  down  out 


218  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

of  sight  among  other  hills  which  made  a  dark  foreground  against 
white  mountains. 

It  was  Bergamo ;  and  not  once  did  we  see  it  again  until  we  were 
almost  in  the  place,  when  it  deigned  to  show  itself  once  more  — 
an  old,  old  city  on  a  height,  a  newer  city  extended  at  its  feet  in  a 
plain. 

"  This  town  is  packed  full  of  interesting  things,"  said  Mr.  Bar- 
rymore.  "I  stayed  here  two  days  once,  at  a  nice  old-fashioned 
hotel  with  domed,  painted  ceilings,  marble  walls  and  mahogany 
mantle-pieces  which  would  have  delighted  you.  And  even  then 
I  had  n't  half  time  for  the  two  or  three  really  fine  churches,  and 
the  Academy,  where  there  are  some  Bellinis,  a  Palma  Vecchio, 
and  a  lot  of  splendid  Old  Masters.  Bergamo  claims  Tasso,  per 
haps  you  remember,  because  his  father  was  born  here;  and  Har 
lequin,  you  know,  was  supposed  to  be  a  Bergamese." 

"  Ought  n't  we  to  stop  and  see  the  pictures  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  ought.  But  one  never  does  stop  where  one  ought  to,  mo 
toring.  Besides,  you  '11  see  the  best  work  of  the  same  artists  at 
Venice  and  as  we  want  to  reach  Desenzano  for  dinner  we 
had  better  push  on." 

We  did  push  on  but  not  far.  Unless  the  main  road  runs 
straight  into  a  town  and  out  of  it  again  it  is  often  difficult  to  dis 
cover  the  exit  from  Italian  cities  like  those  through  which  we 
passed,  and  Mr.  Barrymore  seemed  always  reluctant  to  inquire. 
When  I  remarked  on  this  once,  thinking  it  simpler  to  ask  a  ques 
tion  of  some  one  in  the  street  rather  than  take  a  false  turn,  he  an 
swered  that  automobilists  never  asked  the  way;  they  found  it.  "  I 
can't  explain,"  he  went  on,  "  but  I  believe  other  men  who  drive 
cars  share  the  same  peculiarity  with  me ;  I  never  ask  help  from  a 
passer-by  if  I  can  possibly  fish  out  the  way  for  myself.  It  is  n't 
rational  of  course.  Sometimes  I  could  save  a  detour  if  I  would 
stop  and  ask;  but  I  prefer  to  plunge  on  and  make  a  mistake 
rather  than  admit  that  a  mere  man  on  legs  can  teach  me  anything 
I  don't  know.  It  seems  somehow  to  degrade  the  automobile." 

The  argument  was  too  subtle  for  me,  not  being  an  automobil- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA  219 

1st ;  and  on  trying  to  get  out  of  Bergamo,  Mr.  Barrymore  made 
one  of  his  little  detours.  The  road  twisted;  and  instead  of  finding 
the  one  towards  Brescia  it  happened  that  we  went  down  a  broad 
way  which  looked  like  a  high  road,  but  happened  to  be  only  a  cul 
de  sac  leading  to  the  railway  station.  We  were  annoyed  for  a 
minute,  but  we  were  to  rejoice  in  the  next. 

Seeing  his  error,  Mr.  Barrymore  had  just  turned  the  car  and 
was  circling  round,  when  two  men  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the 
road  and  held  up  their  hands.  They  appeared  so  suddenly  that 
they  made  me  start.  They  were  very  tall  and  very  grave,  dressed 
alike,  in  long  black  coats  buttoned  to  their  chins,  black  gloves, 
and  high  black  hats.  Each  carried  an  oaken  staff. 

"They  're  mutes,"  said  Sir  Ralph  as  Mr.  Barrymore  put  on 
the  brake.  "  They  've  come  to  warn  us  that  there  's  going  to  be  a 
funeral,  and  we  must  clear  out  for  the  procession." 

The  pair  looked  so  sepulchral,  I  thought  he  must  be  right, 
though  I  'd  never  seen  any  "  funeral  mutes."  But  Mr.  Barrymore 
answered  in  a  low  voice,  "  No,  they  're  policemen.  I  won 
der  what 's  up  ?  "  Then,  aloud,  he  addressed  the  melancholy 
black  beanpoles;  but  to  my  surprise,  instead  of  using  his  fluent 
Italian  to  lubricate  the  strained  situation,  he  spoke  in  English. 

"  Good  day.     Do  you  want  something  with  me  ?  " 

Of  course  they  did  n't  understand,  How  could  they  have  been 
expected  to  ?  But  they  did  not  look  astonished.  Their  black  coats 
were  too  tight  round  their  necks  for  them  to  change  expression 
easily.  One  began  to  explain  his  object  or  intention,  with  gentle 
patience,  in  soft  Italian  —  so  soft  that  I  could  have  burst  out 
laughing  at  the  thought  of  the  contrast  between  him  and  a  New 
York  policeman. 

Now  almost  my  whole  knowledge  of  Italian  has  been  gained 
since  Aunt  Kathryn  decided  to  take  this  trip,  for  then  I  immedi 
ately  bought  a  phrase-book,  a  grammar,  and  "  Doctor  Antonio  " 
translated  into  the  native  tongue  of  hero  and  author,  all  of  which 
I  Ve  diligently  studied  every  evening.  Mr.  Barrymore,  on  the  con 
trary,  speaks  perfectly.  I  believe  he  could  even  think  in 


220  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

Italian  if  he  liked;  nevertheless  I  could  understand  a  great 
deal  that  the  thin  giant  said,  while  he  apparently  was  hopelessly 
puzzled. 

Even  without  an  accompaniment  of  words,  the  policeman's 
pantomime  was  so  expressive,  I  fancy  I  should  have  guessed  his 
meaning.  With  the  grieved  dignity  of  a  father  taking  to  task  an 
erring  child,  he  taxed  us  with  having  damaged  a  cart  and  injured 
a  horse,  causing  it  to  run  away.  He  pointed  to  the  distance.  With 
an  arching  gesture  he  illustrated  a  mound  of  hay  (or  clover  ?)  ris 
ing  from  the  vehicle ;  with  a  quick  outward  thrust  of  hands  and 
widespread  fingers  he  pictured  the  alarm  and  frantic  rush  of  the 
horse;  he  showed  us  the  creature  running,  then  falling,  then  limp 
ing  as  if  hurt;  he  touched  his  knees  to  indicate  the  place  of  the 
wound.  What  could  the  most  elementary  intelligence  need  more 
to  comprehend  ?  Certainly  it  was  enough  for  the  crowd  collected 
about  us;  but  it  was  not  enough  for  Mr.  Barrymore,  who  is  an 
Irishman,  and  cleverer  about  everything  than  any  man  I  ever 
met.  He  sat  still,  with  an  absolutely  vacant  though  conscientious 
look  on  his  face,  as  if  he  were  trying  hard  to  snatch  at  an  idea,  but 
had  n't  succeeded.  When  the  policeman  finished,  Mr.  Barrymore 
sadly  shook  his  head.  "  I  wonder  what  you  mean  ?  "  he  murmured 
mildly  in  English. 

The  Italian  retold  the  story,  his  companion  throwing  a  word 
into  a  pause  now  and  then.  Both  patient  men  articulated  with 
such  careful  nicety  that  the  syllables  fell  from  their  mouths  like 
clear-cut  crystals.  But  Mr.  Barrymore  shook  his  head  again; 
then,  suddenly,  with  a  joyous  smile  he  seized  a  pocket-book  from 
inside  his  coat.  From  this  he  tore  out  an  important-looking  docu 
ment  stamped  with  a  red  seal,  and  pointed  from  it  to  a  litho 
graphed  signature  at  the  foot. 

" Foreign  Secretary;  Lansdowne  —  Lord  Lansdowne,"  he  re 
peated.  "Inglese.  Inglese  and  Italiani sempre amici.  Yes?"  His 
smile  embraced  not  only  the  long-suffering  policemen  but  the 
crowd,  who  nodded  their  heads  and  laughed.  Having  made  this 
effectj  Mr.  Barrymore  whipped  out  another  impressive  paper, 


A  CHAPTER  OF  MOTOR  MANIA 

which  I  could  see  was  his  permis  de  Conduire  from  the  Depart 
ment  of  Mines  in  Nice. 

He  pointed  to  the  official  stamp  on  this  document,  and  with  the 
childlike  pride  of  one  who  stammers  a  few  words  of  a  foreign 
tongue,  he  exclaimed,  "Nizza.  Nizza  la  bella."  With  this,  he 
looked  the  giants  so  full  and  kindly  in  the  face,  and  seemed  to  be 
so  greatly  enjoying  himself,  that  every  one  laughed  again,  and 
two  young  men  cheered,  appearing  to  be  rather  ashamed  of 
themselves  afterwards.  Then,  as  if  every  requirement  must  at 
last  be  satisfied,  he  made  as  if  to  go  on.  But  the  conscientious 
comrades,  though  evidently  faint  and  discouraged,  had  n't  yet 
given  up  hope  or  played  their  last  card,  despite  the  yards  of  Eng 
lish  red  tape  with  which  those  two  stamped  papers  had  fed  their 
appetite  for  officialism. 

The  taller  of  the  pair  laid  his  black  glove  on  our  mud-guard, 
cracked  by  the  flapping  tyre  days  ago,  and  to  be  mended  (I  'd 
heard  Mr.  Barrymore  say)  at  the  garage  in  Mestre.  With  such 
dramatic  gestures  as  only  the  Latin  races  command,  he  attempt 
ed  to  prove  that  the  mud-guard  must  have  been  broken  in  the 
collision  near  Bergamo,  of  which  his  mind  was  full. 

At  last  our  Chauffeulier  comprehended  something.  He  jumped 
out  of  the  throbbing  car,  and  in  his  turn  went  through  a  pan 
tomime.  From  a  drawer  under  the  seat  he  produced  the  rubber 
skin  that  had  come  off  our  tyre,  showed  how  it  fitted  on,  how  it 
had  become  detached,  and  how  it  had  lashed  the  mud-guard  as 
we  moved.  Everybody,  including  the  policemen,  displayed  the 
liveliest  interest  in  this  performance.  The  instant  it  was  over,  Mr. 
Barrymore  took  his  place  again,  coiled  up  the  rubber  snake,  and 
this  time  without  asking  leave,  but  with  a  low  bow  to  the  repre 
sentatives  of  local  law,  drove  the  car  smartly  back  into  the  town. 
What  could  the  thwarted  giants  do  after  such  an  experience  but 
stand  looking  after  us  and  make  the  best  of  things  ? 

"  It  was  our  salvation  that  we  Jd  lost  our  way  and  were  driving 
towards  Bergamo  instead  of  out,"  said  the  conqueror  triumph 
antly.  "  You  see,  they  thought  probably  they  'd  got  hold  of  the 


222  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

wrong  car,  as  the  accused  one  had  been  coming  from  Lecco.  What 
with  that  impression,  and  their  despair  at  my  idiocy,  they  were 
readytogive  us  the  benefitof  thedoubt  and  save  their  faces.  Other 
wise,  though  we  were  innocent  and  the  driver  of  the  cart  merely 
'  trying  it  on,'  we  might  have  been  hung  up  here  for  ten  days." 

"  Oh,  could  they  have  hung  us  ? "  gasped  Aunt  Kathryn. 
"  What  a  dreadful  thing  Italian  law  must  be." 

Then  we  all  laughed  so  much  that  she  was  vexed,  and  when 
Beechy  called  her  a  "  stupid  little  Mamma,"  snapped  back  that 
anyhow  she  was  n't  stupid  enough  to  forget  her  Italian  —  if  she 
knew  any  —  just  when  it  was  needed. 

She  is  too  sweet-tempered  to  be  cross  for  long,  however,  and 
the  way  towards  Brescia  was  so  charming  that  she  forgot  her  an 
noyance.  Though  the  surface  was  not  so  good  as  it  had  been,  it 
was  not  too  bad;  and  our  noble  tyres,  which  had  borne  so  much, 
seemed  to  spurn  the  slight  irregularities.  With  every  twenty  yards 
we  had  a  new  view,  as  if  the  landscape  slowly  turned,  to  assume 
different  patterns  like  the  pieces  in  a  kaleidoscope.  On  our  left 
the  mountains  appeared  to  march  on  with  us  always,  white  and 
majestic,  with  strange,  violet  shadows  floating  mysteriously. 

Set  back  from  the  roadside,  behind  rich  meadows  rippling  with 
gold  and  silver  grain,  were  huge  farmhouses,  with  an  air  of  dig 
nity  born  of  self-respect  and  venerable  age.  We  had  pretty  gar 
den  glimpses,  too,  and  once  in  a  while  passed  a  fine  mansion, 
good  enough  to  call  itself  a  chateau  so  long  as  there  were  no  real 
ones  in  the  neighbourhood.  Often  chestnut-trees  in  full  glory  of 
white  blossom,  as  if  blazing  with  fairy  candles,  lined  our  way  for 
miles.  There  was  snow  of  hawthorne  too  —  "  May,"  our  two 
men  called  it  —  and  ranks  of  little  feathery  white  trees,  such  as  I 
knew  no  name  for,  looking  like  a  procession  of  brides,  or  young 
girls  going  to  their  first  communion.  Then,  to  brighten  the  white 
land  with  colour,  there  were  clumps  of  lilac,  clouds  of  rose-pink 
apple  blossoms,  blue  streaks  that  meant  beds  of  violets,  and  a 
yellow  fire  of  iris  rising  straight  and  bright  as  flame  along  the 
edges  of  green,  roadside  streams. 


A   CHAPTER   OF  MOTOR  MANIA  223 

Just  as  we  came  into  a  splendid  old  Italian  town,  thunder  be 
gan  to  growl  like  a  lion  hiding  in  the  mountains.  A  few  drops  of 
rain  splashed  on  our  motor-hoods,  and  a  sudden  chill  wind  gath 
ered  up  the  sweet  country  scents  into  one  bouquet  to  fling  at  us. 

"  Here  we  are  at  Brescia.  Shall  we  stop  for  the  storm  and  have 
tea  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Barrymore. 

Aunt  Kathryn  said  "  yes  "  at  once,  for  she  does  n't  like  getting 
wet,  and  can't  bear  to  have  the  rain  spray  on  her  face,  though  I 
love  it.  So  we  drove  quickly  through  streets,  each  one  of  which 
made  a  picture  with  its  old  brown  palaces,  its  stone  steps  with 
pretty  women  chatting  in  groups  under  red  umbrellas,  its  quaint 
bridge  flung  across  the  river,  or  its  pergola  of  vines.  Past  a  mag 
nificent  cathedral  we  went  as  the  bells  rang  for  vespers,  and  chil 
dren,  young  girls,  old  black-shawled  women,  smart  soldiers,  and 
gallant-looking,  tall  officers  answered  their  call.  Thus  we  arrived 
at  a  quaint  hotel,  with  a  garden  on  the  river's  edge;  and  under  a 
thick  arbour  of  chestnut-trees  (impervious  to  floods)  we  drank 
coffee  and  ate  heart-shaped  cakes,  while  the  thunder  played  wild 
music  for  us  on  a  vast  cathedral  organ  in  the  sky. 

"  No  wonder  the  soldiers  are  smart  and  the  officers  fine,"  said 
the  Chauffeulier,  in  answer  to  a  remark  of  mine  which  Beechy 
echoed.  "  Brescia  deserves  them  more  than  most  towns  of  Italy, 
for  you  know  she  has  always  been  famous  for  the  military  genius 
and  courage  of  her  men,  and  once  she  was  second  only  to  Milan 
in  importance.  Venice  —  whose  vassal  she  was  —  had  a  right  to 
be  proud  of  her.  The  history  of  the  great  siege,  wherein  Bayard 
got  the  wound  which  he  thought  would  be  mortal,  is  as  interest 
ing  as  a  novel.  '  The  Escape  of  Tartaglia '  and  '  The  Generosity 
of  Bayard'  are  bits  that  make  you  want  to  shout  aloud." 

"  And  yet  we  '11  pass  on,  and  see  nothing,  except  those  pano 
rama-like  glimpses,"  I  sighed.  "Oh  motoring,  motoring,  and 
motor  maniacs ! " 

"  How  often  one  has  that  half -pleasant,  half-regretful  feeling 
about  things  or  people  one  flashes  by  on  the  road,"  soliloquized 
Sir  Ralph,  pleasantly  resigned  to  the  pain  of  parting.  "  I  have  it 


MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

continually,  especially  about  some  of  the  beautiful,  dark-eyed 
girls  I  see,  and  leave  behind  before  I  've  fairly  catalogued  their 
features.  I  say  to  myself,  "  Lovely  flower  of  beauty,  wasted  in  the 
dust  of  the  roadside.  Alas !  I  leave  you  for  ever.  What  is  to  be  your 
fate  ?  Will  you  grow  old  soon,  under  your  peasant-burdens  and 
cares  ?  How  sad  it  is  that  I  shall  never  know  your  history.' " 

"  It  would  n't  be  a  bit  interesting,"  said  Beechy.  "  But  I  sup 
pose  that  theory  won't  comfort  you  any  more  than  it  did  Maida 
the  other  day,  when  she  tried  too  late  to  save  a  fly  from  dying  in 
some  honey,  and  I  consoled  her  by  saying  it  probably  was  n't  at 
all  a  nice  fly,  if  one  had  known  it." 

"  No,  it  does  n't  console  me,"  Sir  Ralph  complained.  "  Still, 
there  's  a  certain  thrill  in  the  thought  of  bursting  like  a  thunder 
bolt  into  the  midst  of  other  people's  tragedies,  comedies,  or  ro 
mances,  just  catching  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  their  possibilities  and 
tearing  on  again.  But  there  are  some  creatures  we  meet  that  I  'm 
glad  to  lose  sight  of.  Not  those  who  glare  anarchically,  uncon 
sciously  betraying  their  outlook  on  life ;  not  the  poor  slow  old  peo 
ple  who  blunder  in  the  way,  and  stare  vacantly  up  at  our  fiery 
chariot  —  so  strange  a  development  of  the  world  for  them ;  not 
the  dogs  that  yelp,  and  are  furious  if  we  don't  realize  that  they  're 
frightening  us.  No,  but  the  horrid  little  jeering  boys,  who  run  be 
side  the  car  at  their  best  speed  when  we  're  forging  up  perpen 
dicular  hills  on  our  lowest.  These  are  the  creatures  I  would  wipe 
out  of  existence  with  one  fierce  wish,  if  I  had  it  in  me.  To  think 
that  they  —  they  —  should  have  the  power  to  humiliate  us.  I 
don't  get  back  my  self-respect  till  we  're  on  a  level,  or  my  joie  de 
vivre  until  we  're  shooting  downhill,  and  can  hold  our  own  with 
a  forty  horse-power  motor,  to  say  nothing  of  a  one-horse,  Italian 
village  boy." 

"What  a  revelation  of  vindictiveness,  where  one  would  least 
expect  it ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  But  the  rain  's  over. 
Shall  we  go  on  ?  "  And  we  all  agreed  eagerly,  as  we  probably 
should  in  Paradise,  if  it  were  a  question  of  motoring. 


XVIII 
A  CHAPTER  ACCORDING  TO  SHAKSPERE 

ANOTHER  Cuneo!"  groaned  Aunt  Kathryn,  at  sight 
of  the  hotel  in  the  steep  little  town  of  Desenzano,  on 
Lake  Garda;  but  later  she  apologized  to  the  quaint 
court-yard  for  her  misunderstanding,  and  was  more 
than  tolerant  of  her  vast  bedroom  draped  with  yellow  satin,  and 
opening  on  an  arboured  terrace  worthy  even  of  a  Countess 
Dalmar. 

For  miles  our  way  towards  Verona  next  morning  was  pink 
and  white  with  chestnut  bloom.  Even  the  shadows  seemed  warm 
ly  pink  under  the  long  unbroken  arch  of  flowering  trees.  Far 
away,  behind  the  green  netting  of  their  branches,  we  caught  blue 
flashes  of  lake  and  mountain  peaks  of  amethyst,  while  Beechy 
wished  for  a  dozen  noses  dotted  about  here  and  there  at  conven 
ient  intervals  on  her  body,  so  that  she  might  make  the  most  of 
the  perfumed  air.  "  But  you  would  want  them  all  cut  off  when 
you  got  to  the  nearest  town,"  remarked  Aunt  Kathryn. 

Ever  since  Brescia,  the  road  had  been  so  smooth  and  well  kept 
that  it  was  as  if  we  had  come  into  a  different  country;  but  Mr. 
Barrymore  said  it  was  because  we  were  now  under  the  jurisdic 
tion  of  Venice  —  Venice,  as  rich  and  practical  as  romantic.  And 
I  had  to  repeat  the  name  over  and  over  in  my  mind  —  Verona 
and  Padua  too  —  to  make  myself  believe  that  we  were  actually 
so  near. 

Horses  were  better  trained  in  this  district,  and  "  knew  a  motor 
when  they  saw  it."  Even  a  drove  of  sheep  (near  the  wonderful 
fortress  of  Peschiera  with  its  coiled  python  of  a  river)  seemed 

225 


226  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

comparatively  indifferent  as  they  surged  round  us  in  a  foaming 
wave  of  wool.  But  then,  sheep  have  no  facial  expression.  All  other 
four-footed  things  show  emotion  by  a  change  of  countenance,  just 
as  human  beings  do  —  more,  because  they  don't  conceal  their  feel 
ings  —  but  sheep  look  as  if  they  wore  foolishly  smiling  masks. 
Even  when,  as  their  ranks  closed  in  around  the  automobile,  we 
broke  a  chain  with  a  pretty  little  tinkling  noise,  and  some  of  the 
sheep  tripped  up  on  it,  they  did  nothing  but  smile  and  merely 
mention  "  ba-a"  in  an  indifferent,  absent-minded  way. 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  much  nicer  you  are  with  mint  sauce ! " 
Beechy  taunted  them,  as  we  swept  round  a  corner  and  were  in 
the  labyrinth  of  the  fortress,  which  was,  our  men  told  us,  part  of 
the  once  famous  quadrilateral  that  made  trouble  for  Italy  in  '48. 

"  There  's  something  pathetic  about  old,  obsolete  forts  as 
grand  as  Peschiera,"  Mr.  Barrymore  said  to  me.  "So  much 
thought  and  money  spent,  the  best  military  science  of  the  day 
employed  to  make  a  stronghold  as  feeble  against  modern  arms  as 
a  fort  of  cards.  Such  a  fortress  seems  like  an  aged  warrior,  past 
his  fighting  days,  or  an  old  hunting  dog,  as  keen  on  the  chase  as 
ever,  poor  fellow,  but  too  old  to  move  from  before  the  fire,  where 
he  can  only  lie  and  dream  of  past  triumphs." 

"  I  was  thinking  almost  exactly  the  same ! "  I  exclaimed,  and 
I  liked  Mr.  Barrymore  all  the  better;  for  it  draws  you  nearer  to  a 
person  when  you  find  that  your  thoughts  resemble  each  other  in 
shape  and  colour.  Oddly  enough,  it 's  often  so  with  Mr.  Barry- 
more  and  me;  which  is  the  reason  it  's  so  agreeable  to  have  the 
place  beside  him  when  he  drives. 

No  more  than  half  a  dozen  miles  from  Peschiera  we  saw  the 
Tower  of  San  Martino,  raised  on  the  great  battlefield  of  Solfe- 
rino.  By  this  time  we  had  left  the  lake  behind;  but  we  had  ex 
changed  the  low,  amethyst  mountains  for  tall  white  ones,  glori 
ous  pinnacles  of  snow  which  were  the  higher  Austrian  Alps. 
Everything  was  impressive  on  this  road  to  Verona,  even  the  farm 
houses,  of  an  entirely  different  character  from  those  of  the  "  yes 
terday  country;"  and  then,  at  last,  we  came  in  sight  of  Verona 


A  CHAPTER  ACCORDING  TO  SHAKSPERE  227 

herself,  lying  low  within  a  charmed  circle  of  protecting  hills,  on 
which  castles  and  white  villas  looked  down  from  among  cy 
presses  and  rose-pink  almond  trees. 

I  was  glad  that  the  gateway  by  wrhich  we  entered  Verona  was 
the  finest  through  which  we  had  passed,  for  though  Mr.  Barry- 
more  called  the  town  "  an  inn  for  the  great  travellers  of  history," 
it  was  more  for  me.  It  was  the  home  of  romance;  for  was  it  not 
Juliet's  home  and  Romeo's  ? 

That  gateway,  and  the  splendid  old  crenellated  bridge  of  dark 
red  brick  (toning  deliciously  with  the  clear,  beryl-green  of  the 
swift-rushing  Adda)  made  a  noble  preface  for  the  city.  And  then, 
each  old,  old  street  into  which  we  turned  was  a  new  joy.  What 
lessons  for  modern  architects  in  those  time-softened  brick  fa- 
£ades,  with  the  moulded  arches  of  terra-cotta  framing  the  green 
open-work  of  the  shutters! 

I  began  to  feel  a  sense  of  exaltation,  as  if  I  had  listened  to  an 
anthem  played  by  a  master  hand  on  a  cathedral  organ.  I  could  n't 
have  told  any  one,  but  I  happened  to  glance  at  Mr.  Barrymore, 
and  he  at  me,  just  as  he  had  driven  into  the  piazza  where  Dante's 
house  looks  down  over  the  tombs  of  the  Scaligers.  Then  he 
smiled,  and  said,  "  Yes,  I  know.  I  always  feel  like  that,  too,  when 
I  come  here  —  but  even  more  in  Venice." 

"  How  am  I  feeling  ?  "  I  asked,  smiling  with  him. 

"  Oh,  a  little  bit  as  if  your  soul  had  got  out  of  your  body  and 
taken  a  bath  in  a  mountain  spring,  after  you  'd  been  staggering 
up  some  of  the  steep  paths  of  life  in  the  dust  and  sun.  Is  n't  that 
it?" 

"  Yes.  Thank  you,"  I  answered.  And  we  seemed  to  understand 
each  other  so  well  that  I  was  almost  frightened. 

"I  want  all  these  streets  for  mine,"  said  Beechy,  in  a  chatter 
ing  mood.  "  Oh,  and  especially  the  market-place,  with  that 
strange  old  fountain,  and  the  booths  under  the  red  umbrellas  like 
scarlet  mushrooms.  Mamma,  have  you  got  money  enough  to  buy 
them  for  me,  and  have  them  packed  up  in  a  big  box  with  dried 
moss,  like  the  toy  villages,  and  expressed  to  Denver  ?  " 


228  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"Speaking  of  dried  moss,  all  these  lovely  old  churches  and 
palaces  and  monuments  look  as  if  history  had  covered  them  with 
a  kind  of  delicate  lichen,"  I  said,  more  to  Mr.  Barrymore  than  to 
Beechy.  "  And  it  enhances  their  beauty,  as  the  lace  of  a  bride's 
veil  enhances  the  beauty  of  her  face." 

"  Or  a  nun's  veil,"  cut  in  Beechy.  I  wonder  why  she  says  things 
like  that  so  often  lately  ?  Well,  perhaps  it 's  best  that  I  should  be 
reminded  of  my  vocation,  but  it  gives  me  a  cold,  desolate  feeling 
for  a  minute,  and  seems  to  throw  a  constraint  upon  us  all. 

We  had  made  the  Chauffeulier  stop  three  or  four  times  in 
every  street  to  look  at  some  beautiful  bit ;  a  gate  of  flexible  iron 
work  that  even  Ruskin  must  have  admired,  the  doorway  of  a 
church,  the  wonderful  windows  of  a  faded  palace ;  but  suddenly  I 
felt  ready  to  go  to  the  hotel,  wThere  we  were  to  stop  for  the  night, 
that  we  might  do  our  sight-seeing  slowly. 

It  was  a  delightful  hotel,  itself  once  a  palace,  and  to  be  there 
was  to  be  *'  in  the  picture,"  in  such  a  place  as  Verona.  The  Prince 
had  arrived  before  us,  as  his  motor  is  retrieving  its  reputation, 
and  we  all  lunched  together,  making  plans  for  the  afternoon. 

As  usual,  he  was  blase  —  so  different  from  Mr.  Barrymore, 
who  has  seen  the  best  things  in  Italy  as  often  as  Prince  Dalmar- 
Kalm  has,  yet  never  tires;  indeed,  finds  something  new  each 
time. 

The  Prince  began  by  announcing  that  Verona  bored  him.  But 
one  could  always  go  to  sleep. 

"  That 's  what  I  mean  to  do,"  said  Aunt  Kathryn,  who  gener 
ally  takes  her  cue  from  him.  "  I  consider  that  I  've  seen  Verona 
now,  and  I  shall  lie  down  this  afternoon.  Perhaps  later  I  shall 
write  a  few  letters  in  the  hall." 

I  was  unkind  enough  to  fancy  this  a  hint  for  the  Prince,  but 
perhaps  I  wronged  her.  And  anyway,  why  should  she  not  give 
him  hints  if  she  likes  ?  He  has  been  very  attentive  to  her,  al 
though  for  the  last  few  days  I  don't  think  they  have  been  quite  so 
much  in  "  each  others'  pockets  "  (as  Beechy  calls  it)  as  before. 

A  little  attention  was  needed  by  the  automobile,  it  appeared  — 


A   CHAPTER  ACCORDING  TO   SHAKSPERE  229 

such  as  a  tightening  up  of  chains,  and  a  couple  of  lost  grease- 
cups  to  replace;  therefore  Mr.  Barrymore's  time  would  be  filled 
up  without  any  sight-seeing.  But  Sir  Ralph  offered  to  take 
Beechy  and  me  anywhere  we  liked  to  go.  I  was  very  glad  that  the 
Prince  said  nothing  about  accompanying  us,  for  somehow  I  'd 
been  afraid  he  would. 

We  consulted  guide-books  until  we  were  bewildered,  but  in  the 
midst  of  confusion  I  held  fast  to  two  things.  We  had  seen  Romeo's 
house,  towering  picturesquely  behind  the  Scaligers' tombs;  but  I 
wanted  to  see  where  Juliet  had  lived,  and  where  she  had  been 
buried. 

"  The  Prince  says  it 's  all  nonsense,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Kathryn. 
"  If  there  was  a  slight  foundation  for  the  story  in  a  great  family 
scandal  here  about  Shakspere's  time,  anyhow  there  's  none  for 
the  houses  or  the  tomb  —  " 

Beechy  stopped  her  ears.  "You  're  real  mean,"  she  said,  "you 
and  the  Prince  both.  It 's  just  as  bad  as  when  you  thought  it  your 
duty  to  tell  me  there  was  no  Santa  Claus.  But  I  don't  care;  there 
is.  I  shall  believe  it  when  I  'm  seventeen;  and  I  believe  in  the  Ro 
meo  and  Juliet  houses  too." 

But  when  we  w^ere  in  the  street  of  Juliet's  house  —  she  and  Sir 
Ralph  and  I  —  Beechy  pouted.  Standing  with  her  hands  behind 
her,  her  long  braids  of  hair  dangling  half-way  down  her  short 
skirt  as  she  threw  back  her  head  to  gaze  up,  she  looked  incred 
ibly  modern  and  American.  "  There  were  no  tourists'  agencies 
in  those  days,"  she  remarked,  regretfully,  "  so  I  suppose  Shaks- 
pere  had  to  trust  to  hearsay,  and  somebody  must  have  told  him 
a  big  tarradiddle.  I  guess  Juliet  was  really  on  a  visit  to  an  aunt  in 
the  country  when  she  first  met  Romeo,  for  fancy  a  girl  in  her 
senses  yelling  down  from  that  balcony  up  at  the  top  of  a  tall 
house  to  any  lover,  let  alone  a  secret  one  ?  Besides,  there  would  n't 
have  been  enough  rope  in  Verona  to  make  the  ladder  for  Romeo 
to  climb  up." 

After  this  speech,  I  decided  that,  fond  as  I  really  am  of  her,  I 
could  not  visit  Juliet's  tomb  in  Beechy's  society.  I  gave  no  hint  of 


230  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

my  intentions;  but  after  an  exquisite  hour  (which  nobody  could 
spoil)  in  that  most  adorable  of  churches,  San  Zenone,  and 
another  in  Sant'  Anastasia,  I  slipped  away  while  Beechy  and 
Sir  Ralph  were  picking  out  the  details  of  St.  Peter's  life  on  the 
panels  of  a  marvellous  pilaster. 

We  had  had  a  cab  by  the  hour;  and  when  they  should  discover 
my  absence,  they  would  take  it  for  granted  that  I  had  got  tired 
and  gone  home.  They  would  then  proceed  to  carry  out  their  pro 
gramme  of  sight-seeing  very  happily  without  me,  for  Beechy 
amuses  Sir  Ralph  immensely,  child  as  she  is,  and  she  makes  no 
secret  of  taking  pleasure  in  his  society.  She  teases  him,  and  he 
likes  it;  he  draws  her  out,  and  her  wit  brightens  in  the  process. 

I  hurried  off  when  their  backs  were  turned.  Not  far  away  I 
found  a  prowling  cab,  and  told  the  man  to  drive  me  to  Juliet's 
tomb.  He  stared,  as  if  in  surprise,  for  I  suppose  girls  of  our  class 
don't  go  about  much  alone  in  Italian  towns ;  but  he  condescended 
to  accept  me  as  a  fare.  However,  to  show  his  disapproval  maybe, 
he  rattled  me  through  streets  old  and  beautiful,  ugly  and  mod 
ern  (why  should  most  modern  things  be  ugly,  even  in  Italy  ?)  at 
a  tremendous  pace.  At  last  he  stopped  before  a  high,  blank  wall, 
in  a  most  dismal  region,  apparently  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  I 
would  hardly  believe  that  he  had  brought  me  to  the  right  place, 
but  he  reassured  me.  In  the  distance  another  cab  was  approach 
ing,  probably  on  the  same  errand.  I  rang  a  bell,  and  a  gate  was 
opened  by  a  nice-looking  woman,  who  knew  well  what  I  wanted 
without  my  telling,  and  she  spoke  so  clearly  that  I  was  able  to  un 
derstand  much  of  what  she  said.  Instead  of  feeling  that  the 
romance  of  visiting  Juliet's  burial-place  was  destroyed  by  tra 
versing  the  great  open  square  of  the  communal  stables,  where  an 
annual  horse  show  is  held,  I  was  conscious  of  a  strange  charm  in 
the  unsuitable  surroundings.  It  was  like  coming  upon  a  beautiful 
white  pearl  in  a  battered  old  oyster-shell,  to  pass  through  this 
narrow  gateway  at  the  far  end  of  a  dusty  square,  and  find  myself 
face  to  face  with  a  glimmering  tomb  in  a  quiet  cloister. 

The  strong   contrast  between  the  sordid  exterior   and  this 


A  CHAPTER  ACCORDING  TO  SHAKSPERE 

dainty,  hidden  interior  was  nothing  less  than  dramatic.  The 
lights  and  shadows  played  softly  at  hide-and-seek,  like  dumb  chil 
dren,  over  the  grass,  among  the  pillars  of  the  little  cloister,  over 
the  tomb  itself.  I  was  thankful  to  be  alone,  troubled  by  no  fellow- 
tourists,  safe  from  little  Beechy's  too  comical  fancies,  free  to  be  as 
sentimental  as  I  liked.  And  I  liked  to  be  very  sentimental  indeed. 

I  stood  by  the  tomb,  feeling  almost  like  a  mourner,  when  a 
voice  made  me  start.  "  Is  it  Juliet's  spirit  ?  "  asked  Prince  Dalmar^ 
Kalm. 

I  would  rather  it  had  been  any  one  else.  "  How  odd  that  you 
should  come  here ! "  I  exclaimed,  while  my  face  must  have  shown 
that  the  surprise  was  not  too  pleasant. 

"  It  is  not  at  all  odd.  You  are  here,"  answered  the  Prince.  "  You 
said  at  dejeuner  that  you  were  coming,  if  you  had  to  come  alone. 
Eh  bien  ?  I  saw  Miss  Beechy  and  Sir  Ralph  Moray  driving  to 
gether,  deep  in  Baedeker.  My  heart  told  me  where  you  were ;  and 
I  arrive  to  find  you  looking  like  Juliet  come  to  life  again.  Perhaps 
it  is  so  indeed.  Perhaps  you  were  Juliet  in  another  incarnation. 
Yes,  I  feel  sure  you  were.  And  I  was  Romeo." 

"I'm  sure  you  were  not,"  I  replied;  but  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  his  stagey  manner,  though  I  was  more  annoyed  than 
ever  now,  and  annoyed  with  myself  too.  "  I  particularly  wished 
to  be  alone  here,  or  I  would  n't  have  slipped  away  from  Beechy 
and  Sir  Ralph,  so  —  " 

"  And  I  particularly  wished  to  be  alone  here  with  you,  or  I 
would  n't  have  followed  when  you  had  slipped  away  from  them,'* 
he  broke  in.  "  Oh,  Miss  Destrey  —  my  Madeleine,  you  must  lis 
ten  to  me.  There  could  be  no  place  in  the  world  more  appropriate 
to  the  tale  of  a  man's  love  for  a  woman  than  this,  where  a  man 
and  woman  died  for  love  of  one  another." 

"  I  thought  you  called  all  this  '  nonsense  *  ?  "  I  cut  him  short. 
"  No,  Prince,  neither  here  nor  anywhere  must  you  speak  of  love 
to  me,  for  I  don't  love  you,  and  never  could." 

"  I  know  that  you  mean  to  shut  yourself  away  from  the  world," 
he  interrupted  me  again.  "  But  you  shall  not.  It  would  be  sacri- 


232  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

lege.  You  —  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  womanly  girl  in  the 
world  —  to  —  " 

"  No  more,  please ! "  I  cried.  "  It  does  n't  matter  what  my 
future  is  to  be,  for  you  will  not  be  in  it.  I  — 

"  I  must  be  in  it.  I  adore  you.  I  can't  give  you  up.  Have  n't  you 
seen  from  the  first  how  I  loved  you  ?  " 

"I  thought  I  saw  you  liked  trying  to  flirt  when  no  one  was 
looking.  That  sounds  rather  horrid,  but  —  it 's  the  truth." 

"  You  misjudged  me  cruelly.  Have  you  no  human  ambition  ?  I 
could  place  you  among  the  highest  in  any  land.  With  me,  your 
beauty  should  shine  as  it  never  could  in  your  own  country.  Is  it 
nothing  to  you  that  I  can  make  you  a  Princess  ?  " 

"  Less  than  nothing,"  I  answered,  "  though  perhaps  it  would  be 
pretty  of  me  to  thank  you  for  wanting  to  make  me  one.  So  I  do 
thank  you ;  and  I  '11  thank  you  still  more  if  you  will  go  now,  and 
leave  me  to  my  thoughts." 

"  I  cannot  go  till  I  have  made  you  understand  how  I  love  you, 
how  indispensable  you  are  to  me,"  he  persisted.  And  I  grew  really 
angry;  for  he  had  no  right  to  persecute  me,  when  I  had  refused 
him. 

"  Very  well,  then,  /  shall  go,"  I  said,  and  would  have  passed 
him,  but  he  seized  my  hand  and  held  it  fast. 

It  was  this  moment  that  Mr.  Barrymore  chose  for  paying  his 
respects  to  Juliet's  tomb ;  and  I  blushed  as  I  have  never  blushed 
in  my  life,  I  think  —  blushed  till  the  tears  smarted  in  my  eyes.  I 
was  afraid  he  would  believe  that  I  'd  been  letting  Prince  Dalmar- 
Kalm  make  love  to  me.  But  there  was  nothing  to  say,  unless  I 
were  willing  to  have  a  scene,  and  that  would  have  been  hateful. 
Nor  was  there  anything  to  do  except  the  obvious  thing,  snatch 
my  hand  away ;  and  that  might  seem  to  be  only  because  some  one 
had  come.  But  how  I  should  have  loved  to  box  the  Prince's  ears ! 
I  never  dreamed  that  I  had  such  a  temper.  I  suppose,  though, 
there  must  be  something  of  the  fishwife  in  every  woman  —  some 
thing  that  comes  boiling  up  to  the  surface  once  in  a  while,  and 
makes  noblesse  oblige  hard  to  remember. 


A  CHAPTER  ACCORDING  TO  SHAKSPERE   233 

The  one  relief  to  my  feelings  in  this  situation  was  given  by  my 
queer  Mttle  new  pet  —  the  wisp  of  a  black  doggie  I  've  named 
Airole,  after  the  village  where  he  grew.  I  'd  brought  him  into  the 
cloister  in  my  arms  hidden  under  a  cape,  because  he  had  con 
ceived  a  suspicious  dislike  of  the  cabman.  Now  he  said  all 
the  things  to  the  Prince  that  I  wanted  to  say,  and  more,  and 
would  have  snapped,  if  the  Prince  had  not  retired  his  hand  in 
time. 

The  process  of  quieting  Airole  gave  me  the  chance  to  make  up 
my  mind  what  I  should  do  next.  If  I  went  away,  I  could  n't  pre 
vent  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  from  going  with  me,  and  Mr.  Barry- 
more  would  have  a  right  to  imagine  that  I  wished  to  continue  the 
interrupted  scene.  If  I  stayed  it  was  open  for  him  to  fancy  that  I 
wanted  to  be  with  him;  but  between  two  evils  one  chooses  the 
less;  besides,  a  nice  thing  about  Mr.  Barrymore  is  that,  notwith 
standing  his  good  looks  and  cleverness,  he  's  not  conceited  —  not 
conceited  enough,  I  sometimes  think,  for  he  lets  people  misun 
derstand  his  position  and  often  seems  more  amused  than  angry 
at  a  snub. 

Acting  on  my  quick  decision,  I  said,  "  Oh,  I  'm  glad  you  've 
come.  You  know  so  much  about  Verona.  Please  talk  to  me  of  this 
place  —  only  don't  say  it  is  n't  authentic,  for  that  would  be  a  jar 
ring  note." 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  care  enough  whether  things  are  authentic 
or  not,"  he  answered,  both  of  us  ignoring  the  Prince.  "  You  know, 
in  my  country,  legend  and  history  are  a  good  deal  mixed,  which 
makes  for  romance.  Besides,  I  'm  inclined  to  believe  in  stories 
that  have  been  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation  — 
told  by  grandfathers  to  their  grandchildren,  and  so  on  through 
the  centuries  till  they  've  reached  us.  When  they  're  investigated 
by  the  cold  light  of  reason,  at  least  they  can  seldom  be  dis 
proved." 

I  agreed,  and  the  conversation  went  on,  deliberately  excluding 
the  Prince.  Each  minute  I  said  to  myself,  "  Surely  he  '11  go."  But 
he  did  not.  He  stayed  while  Mr.  Barrymore  and  I  discussed  the 


234  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

genius  of  Shakspere,  chiming  in  now  and  then  as  if  nothing  had 
happened,  and  remaining  until  we  were  ready  to  go. 

At  the  cab  there  was  another  crisis.  I  had  n't  yet  entirely  real 
ized  the  Prince's  stupendous  capacity  for  what  Beechy  would  put 
into  one  short,  sharp  word  "  Cheek."  But  I  fully  appreciated  it 
when  he  calmly  manifested  his  intention  of  getting  into  my  cab, 
as  if  we  had  come  together. 

Something  had  to  be  done  instantly,  or  it  would  be  too  late. 

Leaning  from  my  seat  so  that  the  Prince  had  to  wait  with  his 
foot  on  the  step,  I  exclaimed,  "Oh!  Mr.  Barrymore,  won't  you 
let  me  give  you  a  lift  ?  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  has  his  own  cab,  and 
I  'm  alone  in  this." 

"Thanks  very  much,  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  the  Chauffeu- 
lier. 

Even  the  Prince's  audacity  was  n't  equal  to  the  situation  creat 
ed  by  these  tactics.  He  retired,  hat  in  hand,  looking  so  furious 
that  I  could  hardly  help  laughing.  Mr.  Barrymore  got  in  beside 
me,  and  we  drove  off  leaving  the  Prince  with  nobody  but  his  own 
cabman  to  vent  his  rage  on. 

I  rather  hoped,  for  a  minute,  that  Mr.  Barrymore  would  say 
something  which  would  give  me  the  chance  for  a  vague  word  or 
two  of  explanation ;  but  he  did  n't.  He  simply  talked  of  indifferent 
things,  telling  me  how  the  work  on  the  car  was  finished,  and  how 
he  had  had  time  after  all  to  wander  among  his  favourite  bits  of 
Verona.  And  then,  in  a  flash  of  understanding,  I  saw  how  much 
more  tactful  and  manly  it  was  in  him  not  to  mention  the  Prince. 


XIX 

A  CHAPTER  OF  PALACES  AND  PRINCES 

WHAT  a  pity  clocks  don't  realize  the  interesting  work 
they  do  in  the  making  of  history,  as  they  go  on  tick, 
ing  out  moments  which  never  before  have  been 
and  never  will  be  again !  It  would  be  such  a  reward 
for  their  patience;  and  I  should  like  my  watch  to  know  how 
often  I  've  thanked  it  lately  for  the  splendid  moments  it  has 
given  me. 

Some  of  those  I  had  in  Verona  (no  thanks  to  the  Prince !)  have 
really  helped  to  develop  my  soul,  and  it  used  to  need  developing 
badly,  poor  dear;  I  see  that  now,  though  I  did  n't  then.  I  never 
thought  much  about  the  development  of  souls,  except  that  one 
must  try  hard  to  be  good  and  do  one's  duty.  But  now  I  begin 
dimly  to  see  many  things,  as  if  I  caught  glimpses  of  them,  far 
away,  and  high  up  on  some  of  the  snowy  mountain-tops  we  pass 

Must  one  live  through  several  incarnations,  I  wonder,  for  true 
development  ?  Are  some  people  great-minded  because  they  have 
gone  through  many  such  phases,  and  are  the  wondrous  geniuses 
of  the  world  —  such  as  Shakspere  —  the  most  developed  of 
all  ?  Then  the  poor  commonplace  or  stupid  people,  who  never 
have  any  real  thoughts  of  their  own,  are  they  the  undeveloped 
souls  who  have  n't  had  their  chance  yet  ?  If  they  are,  how  kind 
those  who  have  gone  further  ought  to  be  to  them,  and  what  gen 
erous  allowances  they  ought  to  make,  instead  of  being  impatient, 
and  pleased  with  themselves  because  they  are  cleverer. 

I  think  I  should  like  to  send  whole  colonies  of  those  poor  "  be 
ginners  "  to  Italy  to  live  for  a  while,  because  it  might  give  them  a 

235 


236  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

step  up  for  their  next  phase.  As  for  myself,  I  *m  going  further 
every  day,  almost  as  fast,  I  hope,  as  the  automobile  goes. 

"She,"  as  the  Chauffeulier  affectionately  calls  her,  went 
especially  fast  and  well  the  morning  we  swept  out  of  Verona. 
There  was  an  entrancing  smell  of  Italy  in  the  air.  There  is  no 
other  way  to  describe  it  —  it  is  that  and  nothing  else. 

As  long  as  Verona  was  still  within  sight,  I  kept  looking  back, 
just  as  you  drink  something  delicious  down  to  the  last  drop,  when 
you  know  there  can  be  no  dregs.  Only  to  see  how  the  town  lay  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  of  the  north,  was  to  understand  its  pow 
ers  of  defence,  and  its  importance  to  the  dynasties  and  princes  of 
the  past.  With  Mr.  Barrymore's  help,  I  could  trace  one  line  of 
fortification  after  another,  from  the  earliest  Roman,  through 
Charlemagne  and  the  Scaligers,  down  to  the  modern  Aus 
trian. 

No  wonder  that  Verona  was  the  first  halting-place  for  the 
tribes  of  Germans,  pouring  down  from  their  cold  forests  in  the 
north  to  cross  the  Alps  and  rejoice  in  the  sunshine  of  Italy!  For 
Verona's  nearness  to  the  north  and  her  striking  difference  to  the 
north  impressed  me  sharply,  as  a  black  line  of  shadow  is  cut  out 
by  the  sun.  Up  a  gap  in  the  dark  barrier  of  mountains  I  gazed 
where  Mr.  Barrymore  pointed,  towards  the  great  Brenner  Pass, 
leading  straight  to  Innsbruck  through  Tyrol.  How  close  the 
northern  nations  lay,  yet  in  the  warm  Italian  brightness  how  far 
away  they  seemed. 

But  soon  Verona  disappeared,  and  we  were  speeding  along  a 
level  road  with  far-off  purple  peaks  upon  our  left,  and  away  in 
front  some  floating  blue  shapes  which  it  thrilled  me  to  hear  were 
actually  the  Euganean  Hills.  The  Chauffeulier  set  them  to  music 
by  quoting  from  Shelley's  "Lines  Written  in  Dejection  in  the 
Euganean  Hills  "  —  a  sweet  old-fashioned  title  of  other  days,  and 
words  so  beautiful  that  for  a  moment  I  was  depressed  in  sympa 
thy  —  though  I  could  n't  help  feeling  that  I  should  be  happy  in 
the  Euganean  Hills.  They  called  across  the  plain  with  siren 
voices,  asking  me  to  come  and  explore  their  fastnesses  of  blue  and 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PALACES  AND  PRINCES    237 

gold,  but  Aunt  Kathryn  could  n't  understand  why.  "  They  're 
not  half  so  imposing  as  lots  of  mountains  we  've  passed,"  she 
said.  "  And  anyway,  I  think  the  beauty  of  mountains  is  overesti 
mated.  What  are  they  to  admire  so  much,  anyhow,  when  you  think 
of  it,  more  than  flat  places  ?  They  are  only  great  lumps  at  best." 

"  Well,"  replied  Sir  Ralph,  "  if  it  comes  to  that,  what 's  the  sea 
but  a  big  wet  thing  ?  " 

"And  what  are  people  but  a  kind  of  superior  ant,  and  the 
grandest  palaces  but  big  anthills  ?  "  Beechy  chimed  in.  "  I  've 
often  thought,  supposing  there  were  —  well,  Things,  between 
gods  and  men,  living  here  somewhere,  invisible  to  us  as  we 
are  to  lots  of  little  creatures,  what  kind  of  an  idea  would  They  get 
of  us  and  our  ways  ?  They  'd  be  always  spying  on  us,  of  course, 
and  making  scientific  observations,  as  we  do  on  insects.  I  used  to 
believe  in  Them,  and  be  awfully  afraid,  when  I  was  younger,  be 
cause  I  used  to  think  all  the  accidents  and  bad  things  that  hap 
pened  might  be  due  to  Their  experiments.  You  see  They  'd  be 
wondering  why  we  did  certain  things ;  why  lots  of  us  all  run  to  one 
place  —  like  Venice,  or  any  show  city  —  instead  of  going  to  an 
other  nest  of  anthills ;  or  why  we  all  crowded  into  one  anthill  (like 
a  church  or  theatre)  at  a  particular  time.  So  a  theatre-fire  would 
be  when  They  'd  touched  the  anthill  with  one  of  their  cigars,  to 
make  the  ants  run  out.  Or  a  volcano  would  have  an  eruption  be 
cause  They  'd  poked  the  mountain  with  a  great  pin  to  see  what 
would  happen.  Or  when  we  're  cut  or  hurt  in  any  way,  it 's  be 
cause  They  've  marked  us  to  know  one  from  the  other,  as  we  run 
about.  I  do  hope  They  're  not  thinking  about  us  now,  or  They  '11 
drop  something  and  smash  the  automobile." 

"Oh,  don't,  Beechy!  You  make  my  blood  run  cold!"  cried 
Aunt  Kathryn.  "  Do  let 's  talk  of  something  else  quickly.  How 
gracefully  the  vines  are  trained  here,  draped  along  those  rows  of 
trees  in  the  meadows.  It 's  much  prettier  than  ordinary  vineyards. 
You  might  imagine  fairies  playing  tag  under  these  arbours." 

"  Or  fauns  chasing  nymphs,"  said  Sir  Ralph.  "  No  doubt  they 
did  a  few  years  ago  and  caught  them  too." 


238  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

"  I  *m  glad  they  don't  now,"  replied  Aunt  Kathryn,  "  or  this 
would  be  no  fit  place  for  ladies  to  motor." 

But  I  was  n't  glad,  for  the  whole  country  was  one  wide  back 
ground  for  a  pre-Raphaelite  picture,  and  the  mountains  to  which 
Aunt  Kathryn  had  applied  so  insulting  a  simile  were  even  grander 
in  size  and  nobler  in  shape  than  before.  We  had  seen  many  old 
chateaux  (though  never  a  surfeit),  but  the  best  of  all  had  been 
reserved  for  to-day.  Far  away  on  our  left,  as  we  drove  towards 
Padua,  it  rose  above  the  little  town  that  crawled  to  the  foo.t  of  the 
castle's  hill  to  beg  protection ;  and  it  was  exactly  like  a  city  paint 
ed  by  Mantegna  or  Carpaccio,  Mr.  Barrymore  said.  Up  the  hill 
ran  the  noblest  and  biggest  wall  that  an  Old  Master's  imagination 
could  have  conceived.  Many  men  might  walk  on  it  abreast ;  and  at 
every  few  yards  it  bristled  with  sturdy  watch-towers,  not  ruined, 
but  looking  as  ready  to  defy  the  enemy  to-day  as  they  were  six 
hundred  years  ago.  The  culmination  was  the  castle  itself,  so  mag 
nificently  proportioned,  so  worthily  proud  of  its  place,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  there  embodied, 
gazing  down  in  haughty  resignation  upon  a  new  world  it  did  not 
even  wish  to  understand. 

The  name  of  the  castle  was  Soave ;  but  when  I  heard  that  noth 
ing  startling  enough  to  please  me  had  happened  there,  I  would  n't 
know  its  history,  for  my  fancy  was  equal  to  inventing  one  more 
thrilling.  There  was  plentiful  sensation,  though,  in  the  stories  the 
Chauffeulier  could  tell  of  Napoleon's  battles  and  adventures  in 
this  neighbourhood.  I  listened  to  them  eagerly,  especially  to 
that  which  covered  his  falling  into  a  marsh  while  fighting  the 
Austrians,  and  standing  there,  unable  to  get  out,  while  the 
battle  of  Arcole  raged  around  him.  We  were  at  the  point  of 
the  rescue  and  the  victory  of  the  French,  when  we  arrived  at 
another  gateway,  another  octroi,  another  city,  to  enter  which 
was  like  driving  straight  into  an  old,  old  picture. 

In  a  long  street  of  palaces,  all  with  an  elusive  family  resemblance 
to  one  another,  we  paused  for  consultation.  This  was  Vicenza,  the 
birthplace  and  beloved  town  of  Palladio ;  these  palaces  with  fronts 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PALACES  AND   PRINCES    239 

crusted  with  has  relief;  these  Corinthian  pillars,  these  Arabesque 
balconies,  these  porticoes  that  might  have  been  stolen  from  Greek 
temples,  all  had  been  designed  by  Palladio  the  Great.  And  the 
beautiful  buildings  seemed  to  say  pensively,  like  lovely  court  la 
dies  whose  day  is  past,"  We  are  not  what  we  were.  Time  has  chang 
ed  and  broken  us,  it  is  true;  but  even  so  we  are  worth  seeing." 

It  was  that  view  which  our  Chauffeulier  urged,  but  Aunt  Kath- 
ryn  was  for  going  on  without  a  stop,  until  Sir  Ralph  said,  "  It 's 
not  patriotic  of  you  to  pass  by.  Palladio  built  your  Capitol  at 
Washington,  and  all  the  fine  old  colonial  houses  you  admire  so 
much  in  the  East." 

"  Dear  me,  did  he  ?  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Kathryn.  "  Why,  I  never 
heard  of  him." 

"  Moray  does  n't  mean  his  words  to  be  taken  undiluted,"  said 
Mr.  Barrymore.  "  If  it  had  n't  been  for  Palladio,  there  would 
have  been  no  Inigo  Jones  and  no  Christopher  Wren,  therefore  if 
you  'd  had  a  Capitol  at  all,  it  would  n't  be  what  it  is  now.  And  to 
understand  the  colonial  architecture  of  America,  you  have  to  go 
back  to  Palladio." 

"  Well,  here  we  are  at  him,"  sighed  Aunt  Kathryn.  "  But  I  hope 
we  won't  have  to  get  out  ?  " 

Mr.  Barrymore  laughed.  "The  Middle  Ages  revisited,  en 
automobile  !  However,  I  '11  do  my  best  as  showman  in  the  cir 
cumstances." 

So  he  drove  us  into  a  splendid  square,  where  Palladio  was  at 
his  grandest  with  characteristic  f^ades,  galleries,  and  stately 
colonnades.  Then,  slowly,  through  the  street  of  palaces  and  out 
into  the  open  country  once  more  —  a  rich  country  of  grain-fields 
(looking  always  as  if  an  unseen  hand  softly  stroked  their  silver 
hair)  and  of  hills  swelling  into  a  mountainous  horizon.  There  was 
a  bright  little  flower-bordered  canal  too,  and  I  've  grown  fond  of 
canals  since  the  neighbourhood  of  Milan,  finding  them  as  com 
panionable  as  rivers,  if  more  tame.  Indeed,  they  seem  like  rivers 
that  have  gone  to  live  in  town,  where  they  've  learned  to  be  a  bit 
stilted  and  mechanical  in  manner. 


240  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

The  farmhouses,  standing  but  a  short  distance  back  from 
the  level  of  the  road,  were  manorial  in  a  queer  way;  two  or 
three  of  them,  exquisite  old  things,  their  great  roofed  balconies 
covered  with  ivy  and  blossoming  creepers.  The  women  we 
met  were  pretty,  too  —  so  pretty  often  that,  as  Sir  Ralph  said, 
it  would  n't  have  been  safe  for  them  to  walk  out  in  the  feudal 
ages,  as  they  would  promptly  have  been  kidnapped  by  the 
nearest  seignior.  We  might  have  guessed  that  we  were  not 
far  out  from  Venice  by  the  gorgeous  Titian  hair  of  the  peasant 
children  playing  by  the  wayside,  or  a  copper  coil  twisted  above 
a  girl's  dark  eyes. 

"  How  long  a  time  shall  we  spend  in  Padua,  Countess  ?  "  asked 
the  Chauffeulier  as  we  came  within  sight  of  a  gateway,  some 
domes  and  campanili. 

"  Oh,  don't  let 's  make  up  our  mind  till  we  get  there,"  replied 
Aunt  Kathryn  comfortably. 

"  But  we  are  there,"  said  he.  "  In  another  minute  the  little  men 
of  the  dazio  will  be  tapping  our  bags  as  a  doctor  taps  his  pa 
tient's  lungs." 

Padua !  Each  time  that  we  actually  arrived  in  one  of  these  won 
derful  old  places,  it  was  an  electric  shock  for  me.  I  had  to  shake 
myself,  mentally,  to  make  it  seem  true.  But  if  it  was  like  a  dream 
to  enter  the  place  of  Petruchio's  love  story,  what  would  it  be  by- 
and-by  —  oh,  a  very  quick-coming  by-and-by  —  to  see  Venice  ? 
I  hardly  dared  let  my  thoughts  go  on  to  that  moment  for  fear  they 
should  get  lost  in  it,  and  refuse  to  come  back.  Sufficient  for  the 
day  was  the  Padua  thereof. 

•  Not  so  beautiful  as  Verona,  still  the  learned  and  dignified  old 
city  had  a  curiously  individual  charm  of  its  own,  which  I  felt  in 
stantly.  I  loved  the  painted  palaces,  especially  those  where  most 
of  the  paint  had  worn  off,  leaving  but  a  lovely  face,  or  some  folds 
of  a  velvet  robe,  or  a  cardinal's  hat  to  hint  its  story  to  the  imag 
ination.  The  old  arcaded  streets  were  asleep,  and  grass  sprouted 
among  the  cobbles.  Where  they  followed  the  river  we  had 
glimpses  of  gardens  and  arbours  backed  with  roses,  or  an  almond 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PALACES  AND  PRINCES    241 

tree  —  like  a  rosy  bride  leaning  on  a  soldier-lover's  neck  — 
peeped  at  us,  side  by  side  with  a  dark  ilex,  over  a  high  brick  walL 

"How  long  ought  we  to  stay  in  Padua?"  Aunt  Kathryn 
deigned  to  ask,  as  if  in  delayed  answer  to  the  Chauffeulier's 
question,  when  he  helped  her  out  of  the  car  at  the  Stella  d'Oro,, 
where  we  were  to  lunch. 

"A  week,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  his  eyes  twinkling. 

Her  face  fell,  and  he  took  pity. 

"  If  we  were  n't  motor  maniacs,"  he  went  on.  "  In  that  case  we 
would  have  come  here  on  a  solemn  pilgrimage  to  do  full  justice 
to  the  adorable  Giotto,  to  the  two  best  churches  —  not  to  be  sur 
passed  anywhere  —  and  the  dozen  and  one  other  things  worth 
seeing.  But  as  we  are  mad  we  shall  be  able  to  '  do '  Padua,  and 
satisfy  our  consciences  though  not  our  hearts,  in  three  hours.  My 
one  consolation  in  this  deplorable  course,  lies  in  the  thought  that 
it  will  make  it  possible  to  give  you  your  first  sight  of  Venice  be 
tween  sunset  and  moonrise." 

Beechy  clapped  her  hands,  and  my  heart  gave  a  throb.  Some 
how,  my  eyes  happened  to  meet  Mr.  Barrymore's.  But  I  must  not 
get  into  the  habit  of  letting  them  do  that,  when  I  'm  feeling  any 
thing  deeply.  I  can't  think  why  it  seems  so  natural  to  turn  to  him, 
as  if  I  'd  known  him  always ;  but  then  we  have  all  got  to  be  great 
friends  on  this  trip,  and  know  each  other  better  than  if  we  'd 
been  meeting  in  an  ordinary  way  for  a  year.  All  except  the  Prince. 
I  leave  him  out  of  that  statement,  as  I  would  leave  him  out  of 
everything  concerning  me  nearly,  if  I  could.  I  believe  that  none  of 
us  know  him,  or  what  is  in  his  mind.  But  sometimes  there  's  a 
look  in  his  eyes  if  one  glances  up  suddenly,  which  would  almost 
frighten  one,  if  it  were  not  silly  and  melodramatic.  That  is  the 
only  way  in  which  he  has  troubled  me  since  the  horrid  little  inci 
dent  at  Juliet's  tomb  —  with  these  occasional,  strange  looks;  and 
as  he  wrote  me  a  note  of  apology  for  his  bad  conduct  then,  I 
ought  to  forgive  and  forget. 

The  hotel  where  we  lunched  was  not  in  a  quaint  riverside 
street,  but  in  a  square  so  modern  it  was  hard  to  realize  for  the 


MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

moment  that  we  were  in  the  oldest  city  of  Northern  Italy,  dating 
from  before  Roman  days.  However,  the  Stella  d'Oro  was  old 
enough  to  satisfy  us,  and  I  should  have  been  delighted  with  the 
nice  Italian  dishes  Mr.  Barrymore  knew  so  well  how  to  order,  if  I 
liad  n't  been  longing  to  rush  off  with  a  bit  of  bread  in  my  hand, 
not  to  waste  a  Paduan  moment  on  so  dull  a  deed  as  eating. 

It  was  only  twelve  when  we  arrived,  and  before  one  we  were 
out  of  the  huge,  cool  dining-room,  and  in  the  May  sunlight  again. 
The  Prince  was  with  us ;  had  been  just  ahead  of  us,  or  just  behind 
us,  all  through  the  journey  from  Verona.  But  I  thought  by  keep 
ing  close  to  Aunt  Kathryn  and  Beechy  there  would  be  no  danger 
that  he  would  trouble  me.  Unfortunately,  the  pattern  of  our  pro 
gress  arranged  itself  a  little  differently  from  my  plan. 

All  was  simple  enough  in  the  churches,  which  we  visited  first, 
not  to  give  them  time  to  close  up  for  their  afternoon  siesta.  Mr. 
Barrymore  was  of  the  party,  and  we  all  listened  to  him  —  the 
Prince  because  he  must,  we  others  because  we  wished  —  while  he 
ransacked  his  memory  for  bits  of  Paduan  history,  legend  or  ro 
mance.  He  showed  us  the  Giottos  (which  he  had  done  well  to  call 
adorable)  at  the  Madonna  of  the  Arena ;  he  took  us  to  pay  our  re 
spects  to  St.  Anthony  of  Padua  (  that  dear,  obliging  Saint  who 
gives  himself  so  much  trouble  over  the  lost  property  of  perfect 
strangers)  in  his  extraordinary  and  well-deserved  Basilica  of  bub 
bly  domes  and  lovely  cloisters.  He  guided  us  to  Santa  Giustina, 
where  I  would  stop  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  to  pet  two  glorious  old 
red  marble  beasts  which  had  crouched  there  for  four  centuries. 
One  of  them  —  the  redder  of  the  two  —  had  been  all  that  time 
wrestling  with  an  infinitesimal  St.  George  whom  he  ought  to  have 
polished  off  in  a  few  hours ;  while  the  other  —  the  one  with  an  un 
speakable  beard  under  his  chin  and  teeth  like  the  gearing  of  our 
automobile  —  had  been  engaged  for  the  same  period  in  eating  a 
poor  little  curly  lion. 

The  inside  of  the  church  —  too  strongly  recommended  by  Bae 
deker  to  commend  itself  to  me  —  made  me  feel  as  if  I  had  eaten  a 
lemon  water-ice  before  dinner,  on  a  freezing  cold  day;  &n.d  it  was 


A  CHAPTER  OF  PALACES  AND  PRINCES    243- 

there  that  the  Chauff eulier  departed  to  get  ready  the  motor-car. 
There  it  was,  too,  that  the  pattern  disarranged  itself. 

When  we  had  finished  looking  at  a  splendid  Paolo  Veronese,., 
we  hurried  out  into  the  Prato  della  Valle  (which  has  changed  its 
name  to  something  else  not  half  so  pretty,  though  more  patriotic), 
and  Sir  Ralph  took  Beechy  away,  so  that  Aunt  Kathryn  and  I 
were  left  to  the  Prince.  He  hardly  talked  to  her  at  all,  which  hurt 
her  feelings  so  much  that  she  turned  suddenly  round,  and  said 
she  must  speak  to  Beechy. 

I  could  have  cried,  for  the  piazza  was  so  beautiful  that  I  wanted 
some  one  congenial  with  me,  to  whom  I  could  exclaim  about  it.  It 
was  girdled  by  a  belt  of  clear  water,  with  four  stone  bridges  and  a 
double  wall  on  which  stood  a  goodly  company  of  noble  gentle 
men.  There  was  the  history  of  Padua's  greatness  perpetuated  in 
marble  —  charming  personages,one  and  all,  if  you  could  believe 
their  statues,  and  it  would  have  seemed  treacherous  not  to.  Each 
stood  to  be  admired  or  revered  in  the  attitude  most  expressive  of 
his  profession:  Galileo  pointing  up,  graceful,  spiritual,  enthusias 
tic  ;  a  famous  bishop  blessing  his  flock ;  some  great  poet  dreaming 
over  a  book  —  his  own,  perhaps,  just  finished;  and  so  on,  all 
along  the  happy  circle  of  writers,  priests,  scientists,  soldiers,  ar 
tists.  I  felt  as  if  I  wanted  to  know  them  —  those  faithful  friends 
of  all  who  love  greatness,  resting  now  in  each  others'  excellent 
society,  their  sole  reflection  those  in  the  watery  mirror. 

But  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  thought  himself  of  importance  even 
in  this  king's  garden.  "  Did  you  get  my  letter  ?  "  he  asked.  "  And 
do  you  forgive  me  ?  "  he  said.  "  And  will  you  trust  me,  and  not  be 
unkind,  now  that  I  've  promised  to  think  of  you  only  as  a 
friend  ?  "  he  persisted. 

I  did  n't  see  why  he  should  look  upon  me  even  as  a  friend ;  but 
a  cat  may  look  at  a  king,  if  it  does  n't  fly  up  and  scratch;  so  why 
not  a  prince  at  an  American  girl  ?  To  save  argument  and  not  to 
be  unchristian,  I  pledged  myself  to  some  kind  of  superficial  com 
pact  almost  before  I  knew.  When  it  was  done,  it  would  have 
been  too  complicated  to  undo  again ;  and  so  I  let  it  go. 


N 


XX 

A  CHAPTER   IN  FAIRYLAND 

"^  ^  OBODY  can  ever  quite  know  Venice  who  goes  by 
rail  from  Padua,"  said  the  Chauffeulier  to  me, 
when  we  had  started  in  the  car.  "  The  sixteen  miles 
of  road  between  the  two  places  is  a  link  in  Venetian 
liistory,  and  you  '11  understand  what  I  mean  without  any  expla 
nation  as  you  pass  along. " 

This  made  me  post  my  wits  at  the  windows  of  my  eyes,  and  tell 
them  not  to  dare  sleep  for  an  instant,  lest  I  should  disappoint  ex 
pectations.  But,  after  all,  the  meaning  I  had  to  understand  was 
not  subtle,  though  it  was  interesting. 

The  way  was  practically  one  long  street  of  time-worn  palaces 
and  handsome  villas  which  had  once  been  the  summer  retreats  of 
the  rich  Venetians;  and  I  guessed  it  without  being  told.  I  guessed, 
too,  that  the  owners  came  no  more  or  seldom;  that  they  were 
not  so  rich  as  they  had  been,  or  that,  because  of  railways  and  au 
tomobiles,  it  was  easier  and  more  amusing  to  go  further  afield. 
But  what  I  did  n't  know  without  telling  was  that  the  proprie 
tors  had  been  accustomed,  in  the  good  old  leisurely  days,  to  step 
into  their  gondolas  in  front  of  their  own  palaces  in  Venice  and 
come  up  the  Brenta  to  their  summer  homes  without  setting  foot 
to  ground. 

If  I  had  n't  been  told,  too,  that  the  Brenta  was  a  river  big  in 
Venetian  history  if  not  in  size,  I  should  have  taken  it  for  one  of 
my  favourite  canals,  with  its  slow  traffic  of  lazy  barges,  and  its 
hundred  canals  crossing  it  with  long  green  arms  that  stretched 
north  and  south  to  the  horizon.  But  at  Stra  I  must  have  re- 

244 


A  CHAPTER  IN  FAIRYLAND  245 

spected  it  in  any  case;  and  it  was  near  Stra,  also,  that  we  passed 
the  most  important  palace  of  any  on  that  strange,  flat  road.  The 
very  garden  wall  told  that  here  was  a  house  which  must  have 
loomed  large  in  historic  eyes,  and  through  magnificent  gateways 
we  caught  flashing  glimpses  of  a  noble  building  in  a  neglected 
park. 

"  It  belonged  to  the  Pisani,  a  famous  family  of  Venice, "  said 
the  Chauffeulier  as  we  sailed  by.  "  But  Napoleon  took  it  —  as  he 
took  so  many  other  good  things  in  this  part  of  the  world  —  and 
gave  it  to  his  stepson  Eugene  Beauharnais.  " 

"  I  Ve  never  thought  about  Napoleon  in  connection  with 
Venice,  somehow, "  I  said. 

"  But  you  will,  when  your  gondola  takes  you  under  the  huge 
palace  where  he  lived,  "  he  answered. 

"  Talking  of  gondolas,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  what  a  nice  plan  the 
Prince  has  for  us, "  said  Aunt  Kathryn,  with  the  air  of  breaking 
news.  "  As  soon  as  I  mentioned  at  what  time  you  had  arranged  to 
leave  Padua,  he  said  he  would  telegraph  to  some  dear  friends  of 
his  at  Venice,  the  Conte  and  Contessa  Corramini,  to  send  their 
beautiful  gondola  to  meet  us  at  Mestre  (wherever  that  is)  so  that 
we  need  n't  go  into  Venice  by  train  across  the  bridge.  Is  n't  that 
lovely  of  him  ?  " 

No  one  would  have  answered  if  it  had  n't  been  for  Mr.  Bar- 
rymore.  He  said  that  it  was  a  very  good  plan  indeed,  and  would 
be  pleasanter  for  us  than  the  one  he  had  made,  which  he  'd 
meant  for  a  surprise.  He  had  telegraphed  from  Padua  to  the  Hotel 
Britannia,  where  we  would  stay,  ordering  gondolas  to  the  tram 
way  station  in  Mestre  to  save  our  sneaking  into  Venice  by  the 
back-door.  Now  those  gondolas  would  do  very  well  for  our  lug 
gage,  while  the  party  of  five  made  the  journey  more  luxuriously. ' 

"  Party  of  six,  you  mean,  unless  the  Prince  has  had  an  acci 
dent,  "  amended  Beechy. 

"  No;  for  I  shan't  be  with  you.  I  must  drive  the  car  to  the  gar 
age  at  Mestre,  and  see  that  she  's  all  right.  Moray  '11  be  with  you 
to  arrange  everything  at  the  Britannia,  which  you  '11  find  one  of 


246  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

the  nicest  places  in  the  world,  and  I  '11  come  when  I  can.  Now, 
here's  the  turning  for  Mestre,  and  you  must  look  for  something 
interesting  on  the  sky-line  to  the  right,  before  long.  " 

I  could  n't  help  being  disappointed,  because  I  'd  wanted  the 
Chauffeulier  to  be  with  us  when  I  saw  Venice  first;  but  I  could  n't 
say  that ;  and  I  'm  afraid  he  thought,  as  everybody  was  silent, 
that  nobody  cared. 

There  was  nothing  to  show  the  turning  to  Mestre,  except  a 
small  tablet  that  we  might  easily  have  missed ;  and  the  road  was 
laughably  narrow,  running  along  a  causeway  with  a  deep  ditch 
on  either  hand.  Aunt  Kathryn  was  so  afraid  that  a  horse  would 
come  round  one  of  the  sharp  bends  walking  on  its  hind  legs, 
that  she  was  miserable,  but  I  trusted  Mr.  Barrymore  and  en 
joyed  the  country  —  real  country  now,  with  no  more  palaces, 
villas,  or  beautiful  arcaded  farmhouses. 

The  distance  was  hidden  by  long,  waving  grasses,  over  which 
the  blue  line  of  the  Corinthian  Alps  seemed  to  hover  like  a  cloud. 
There  was  a  pungent  smell  of  salt  and  of  seaweed  in  the  air,  that 
meant  the  nearness  of  the  lagoon  —  and  Venice.  Then,  sudden 
ly,  the  "something"  Mr.  Barrymore  had  told  us  to  look  for, 
grew  out  of  the  horizon  —  dim  and  mysterious,  yet  not  to  be  mis 
taken;  hyacinth-blue  streaks  that  were  pinnacles  and  campanili, 
bubbles  that  were  domes,  floating  between  the  gold  of  the  sunset 
and  the  grey-green  of  the  tall  grass,  for  no  water  was  visible  yet. 

"  Venice ! "  I  whispered ;  but  though  Beechy  and  Aunt  Kath 
ryn  each  cried :  "  Oh,  there  it  is !  I  saw  it  first ! "  they  were  so  ab 
sorbed  in  a  discussion  as  to  what  the  Prince's  friends  ought  to 
be  called,  and  they  soon  lost  interest  in  the  vision. 

"Conte!  It 's  like  Condy's  Fluid!"  said  Beechy.  "I  won't  call 
him  '  Conte.'  I  should  laugh  in  his  face.  If  plain  Count  is  n't  good 
enough  for  him,  and  Countess  for  her,  I  shall  just  say  '  You '  — 
so  there!" 

Soon  we  saw  a  great  star-shaped  fortress  as  we  ran  into  a 
town,  which  was  Mestre ;  and  at  the  same  time  we  lost  shadow- 
Venice.  Passing  a  charming  villa  set  back  behind  an  avenue  of 


A   CHAPTER  IN   FAIRYLAND  247 

cypresses  and  plane  trees  that  gave  an  effect  of  dappling  moon 
light  even  in  full  day,  some  one  in  the  tall  gateway  waved  his 
hand. 

"By  Jove,  it 's  Leo  Bari,  the  artist!"  exclaimed  Sir  Ralph. 
"  I  forgot  his  people  lived  here.  I  know  him  well ;  he  comes  to  the 
Riviera  to  paint.  Do  slow  down,  Terry.  " 

So  "  Terry  "  slowed  down,  and  a  handsome,  slim  young  man 
ran  up,  greeting  Sir  Ralph  gaily  in  English.  He  was  introduced 
to  us,  and  his  sister,  a  lovely  Italian  girl  with  Titian  hair,  was  in 
vited  to  leave  the  becoming  background  of  the  gateway  to  make 
our  acquaintance. 

They  were  interested  in  the  details  of  our  tour,  especially 
when  they  heard  that,  after  a  week  in  Venice,  we  were  going  into 
Dalmatia. 

"  Why,  I  'm  going  down  to  Ragusa  to  paint, "  said  he.  "  I  Jve 
been  before,  but  this  time  I  take  my  sister  Beatrice.  She  paints 
too.  We  go  by  the  Austrian  Lloyd  to-morrow.  Perhaps  we  see 
you  there  ? " 

"  Have  you  ever  been  down  as  far  as  Cattaro  ?  "  asked  Aunt 
Kathryn,  from  whose  tongue  the  names  of  Dalmatian  towns  fall 
.trippingly,  since  she  "  acquired  "  a  castle  and  a  title  there. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  to  Montenegro, "  replied  the  artist. 

"  And  do  you  remember  the  houses  of  the  neighbourhood  ?  " 
went  on  Aunt  Kathryn. 

"  It  is  already  but  two  years  I  was  there,  so  a  house  would 
have  to  be  young  for  me  not  to  remember, "  replied  the  young 
man,  unconscious  of  the  funny  little  twist  of  his  English. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  a  very  old  house;  Slosh  —  er  —  the  Castle 
of  Hrvoya.  Have  you  seen  it  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  old  ruin ! "  exclaimed  the  artist.  "  I  seen  it,  yes.  But 
there  is  not  more  much  Schloss  Hrvoya  to  see,  only  the  rock  for 
it  to  stand. " 

Poor  Aunt  Kathryn !  I  was  sorry  for  her.  But  she  bore  the  blow 
well,  and,  after  all,  it 's  the  title,  not  the  castle  for  which  she  cares 
most  —  that,  and  the  right  to  smear  everything  with  crowns. 


248  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

"  Perhaps  I  '11  ask  you  to  paint  Hrvoya  for  me  some  day, "  she 
said.  But  afterwards,  when  we  had  bidden  the  handsome  brother 
and  sister  au  revoir,  she  remarked  that  she  was  afraid  Mr.  Bari 
had  n't  an  artistic  eye. 

The  good-byes  said,  we  swept  through  the  picturesque  town 
to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  presently  encountered  a  little  elec 
tric  tram  running  seaward  on  a  causeway.  We  followed  over 
a  grass-grown  road,  and  suddenly  found  Venice  again,  so  near 
that  we  could  actually  distinguish  one  building  from  another.  Be 
yond  a  broad  stretch  of  water  the  dream  city  floated  on  the  sea. 

"Look;  I  did  this  for  you,  so  that  you  would  go  into  Venice 
in  a  way  worthy  of  yourself, "  the  Prince  murmured  in  my  ear, 
when  the  car  had  stopped,  joining  his  which  was  waiting.  He 
waved  his  hand  towards  a  wonderful  gondola,  with  a  gesture 
such  as  Aladdin's  Genie  might  have  used  to  indicate  the  magic 
palace.  The  glossy  black  coat  of  the  swan-like  thing  brought  out 
the  full  value  of  the  rich  gold  ornaments.  A  long  piece  of  drapery 
trailed  into  the  water  behind,  and  two  gondoliers,  like  bronze 
statues  dressed  in  dark  blue,  crimson,  and  white,  stood  up  tall 
and  erect  against  a  background  of  golden  sea  and  sky. 

They  helped  us  in,  hat  in  hand;  and  not  the  Chauffeulier's  ab 
sence  nor  the  Prince's  presence  could  spoil  for  me  the  experience 
that  followed. 

Sunk  deep  in  springy  cushions,  I  half  sat,  half  lay,  while  the 
bronze  statues  swayed  against  the  gold,  softly  plying  their  long 
oars,  and  wafting  me  —  me  —  to  Venice. 

I  felt  as  if  I  were  moving  from  the  wings  of  a  vast  theatre  onto 
the  stage  to  play  a  heroine's  part.  Evening  bells,  chanting  a 
paen  to  the  sunset,  floated  across  the  wide  water  faint  as  spirit- 
chimes,  and  they  were  the  leitmotif  for  my  entrance. 

"  What  a  shame  to  be  in  motoring  things ! "  I  said  to  Beechy. 
"  Women  should  have  special  gondola  dresses ;  I  see  that  already 
—  a  different  one  each  day.  I  should  like  to  have  a  deep  crimson 
gown  and  a  pale  green  one  —  lilac  too,  perhaps,  and  sunrise- 
pink,  all  made  picturesquely,  not  in  any  stiff  modern  way. " 


A  CHAPTER  IN  FAIRYLAND  249 

"The  costume  of  your  Sisterhood  would  be  pretty  in  a  gon 
dola,  "  Beechy  answered.  And  again  that  coldness  fell  upon  me 
which  I  always  feel  at  a  reminder,  intentional  or  unintentional,  of 
the  future.  But  the  chill  was  gone  in  a  moment  —  lost  in  the  lum 
inous  air,  which  had  a  strange  brilliancy,  as  if  reflected  from  a 
stupendous  mirror.  I  had  never  seen  anything  even  remotely  re 
sembling  it  before.  It  was  as  though  we  were  living  inside  a  great 
opal,  like  flies  in  amber.  And  it  seemed  that  in  a  world  so  wonder 
ful  everything  one  did,  or  looked,  or  thought,  ought  to  be  won 
derful  too,  lest  it  should  be  out  of  tune  with  all  surrounding 
beauty. 

Sea  and  sky  were  of  one  colour,  except  that  the  sea  appeared 
to  be  on  fire  underneath  its  glassy  surface.  The  violet  sky  was 
strewn  with  blown  rose-petals  and  golden  feathers;  the  tiny 
waves  were  of  violet  ruffled  with  rose  and  gold,  and  spattered 
with  jewelled  sparks  which  might  be  flashes  from  a  Doge's 
vanished  ring. 

In  the  distance,  sails  of  big  ships  were  beaten  into  gold  leaf  by 
the  sinking  sun;  and  nearer,  there  were  other  sails  bright  as 
flowers  —  a  sea  picture-gallery  of  Madonnas,  of  arrow-wounded 
hearts,  of  martyred  saints,  or  bright-robed  earthly  ladies. 

We  were  rowing  straight  into  the  sunset,  straight  into  fairy 
land,  and  I  knew  it ;  but  —  what  would  happen  when  the  rose- 
and-golden  glory  had  swallowed  us  up  ? 

The  sparkle  of  the  water  and  air  got  into  my  blood,  and  I  felt 
that  it  must  be  sparkling  too,  like  champagne.  I  was  more  alive 
than  I  had  ever  been  when  I  was  on  earth ;  for  of  course  this  was 
not  earth  —  this  Venice  to  which  I  was  going. 

No  other  road  but  this  water-road  could  have  consoled  me  for 
the  thought  that  there  would  be  no  more  motoring  for  a  week. 
And  clearly  it  was  a  road  of  which  it  was  necessary  for  the  gon 
doliers  to  know  every  oar-length;  for  it  was  defined  by  stakes, 
standing  up  out  of  the  lagoon  singly,  or  gathered  into  clusters  like 
giant  bunches  of  asparagus. 

Turning   my  back  to  the  arched  railway  bridge,  which  ac- 


250  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

companied  us  too  far,  I  looked  only  at  sky  and  water,  and  at 
Venice  rising  from  the  sea. 

The  tide  was  running  out,  the  Prince  said  (among  other  chat- 
terings,  while  I  wished  everybody  woven  in  a  magic  spell  of  si 
lence)  and  the  gondola  made  swift  progress,  rocking  lightly  like 
a  shell,  over  the  bright  ripples  of  the  lagoon. 

The  nearer  we  drew  to  Venice  the  more  like  a  vision  of  en 
chantment  did  the  city  seem.  Not  a  sound  came  to  us,  for  the 
music  of  the  bells  had  died.  All  was  still  as  in  a  dream  —  for  in 
dreams,  does  one  ever  hear  a  sound  ?  I  think  I  never  have.  And 
now  the  gold  had  faded  from  the  clouds,  leaving  them  pink  and 
violet,  transparent  as  gauze,  through  which  the  rising  moon 
sifted  silver  dust.  How  could  the  others  talk  ?  I  did  not  un 
derstand. 

Aunt  Kathryn  was  saying,  "  If  I  hire  a  gondolier,  I  want  to  get 
a  singer.  "  As  if  he  were  a  sewing-machine,  or  a  canary-bird !  And 
Beechy  was  complaining  that  she  felt  "  very  funny; "  she  believed 
the  motion  of  the  gondola  was  making  her  seasick,  just  as  she 
used  to  be  in  her  cradle,  when  she  was  too  young  to  protest  ex 
cept  by  a  howl. 

It  was  a  relief  to  my  feelings  when  we  turned  out  of  the  wide 
lagoon  into  a  canal,  for  then  they  did  at  least  speak  of  the  scene 
around  them,  asking  questions  about  the  tall  palaces  that  walled 
us  in;  who  lived  here;  who  lived  there;  what  was  the  name  or 
history  of  that  ? 

The  odour  of  seaweed  was  more  pungent,  and  there  was  a 
smell  of  water  mingling  with  it  too;  something  like  fresh  cu 
cumbers,  and  the  roots  of  flowers  when  they  have  just  been 
pulled  out  of  the  earth.  I  could  not  have  believed  that  water 
could  have  such  clearness  and  at  the  same  time  hold  so  many 
colours,  as  the  water  in  this,  my  first  canal  of  Venice.  It  was  like  a 
greenish  mirror,  full  of  lights,  and  wavering  reflected  tints  from 
the  crumbling  palaces  whose  old  bricks,  mellow  pink,  gold,  and 
purple,  showed  like  veins  through  the  skin  of  peeling  stucco. 
Down  underneath  the  shining  mirror,  one  could  see  the  old 


A  CHAPTER  IN  FAIRYLAND  251 

marble  steps,  leading  up  to  the  shut  mystery  of  water  gates. 
There  were  shimmering  gleams  of  pearly  white  and  ivory  yel 
low,  under  beardy  trails  of  moss  old  as  the  marble  out  of  which  it 
grew.  And  over  high  walls,  delicate  branches  of  acacia  and  tam 
arisk  beckoned  us,  above  low-hung  drapery  of  wistaria,  that 
dropped  purple  tassels  to  the  lapping  water's  edge. 

So  we  wound  through  one  narrow,  palace-walled  Rio  after 
another,  until  Venice  began  to  seem  like  a  jewelled  net,  with  its 
carved  precious  stones  intricately  strung  on  threads  of  silver;  and 
then  suddenly,  to  my  surprise,  we  burst  into  a  great  canal. 

I  saw  a  bridge,  which  I  knew  from  many  pictures  must  be  the 
Rialto,  but  there  was  no  disappointment,  no  flatness  in  the  im 
pression  of  having  seen  this  all  before,  for  not  the  greatest  genius 
who  ever  lived  could  paint  Venice  at  her  every  day  best.  Palace 
after  palace;  and  by-and-by  a  church  with  a  front  carved  in 
ivory  by  the  growing  moonlight,  thrown  up  against  a  back 
ground  of  rose. 

"Palladio,  it  must  be!"  I  cried. 

"  Yes ;  it 's  San  Georgio  Maggiore,  Terry  Barrymore's  fav 
ourite  church  in  Venice, "  said  Sir  Ralph,  who  had  been  almost 
as  silent  as  I.  "  And  here  we  are  at  the  Hotel  Britannia. " 

"  Why,  it  has  a  garden ! "  exclaimed  Aunt  Kathryn.  "  I  never 
thought  of  a  garden  in  Venice.  " 

"  There  are  several  of  the  loveliest  in  Italy, "  replied  Sir  Ralph. 
*'  But  the  Britannia  's  the  only  hotel  that  has  one.  " 

"  My  friend's  palazzo  has  a  courtyard  garden  with  a  wonder 
ful  old  marble  well-head,  and  beautiful  statues,"  said  the  Prince. 
"  He  and  his  wife  are  coming  to  call  on  you  to-morrow,  and  you 
will  have  the  opportunity  of  thanking  them  for  their  gondola. 
Also,  they  will  probably  invite  you  to  leave  the  hotel,  and  visit 
them  during  the  rest  of  your  stay,  as  they  are  very  hospitable.  " 

"  I  '11  wager  you  won't  want  to  leave  the  Britannia,  once  you 
are  settled  there, "  said  Sir  Ralph  quickly.  "  It 's  the  most  com 
fortable  hotel  in  Venice,  and  Terry  and  I  have  wired  for  rooms 
with  balconies  overlooking  the  Grand  Canal,  and  the  garden. 


252     ,          MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

There  is  n't  a  palace  going  that  I  would  forsake  the  Britannia 
for. " 

By  this  time  the  gondola  had  slipped  between  some  tall  red 
posts,  and  brought  us  to  the  steps  of  the  hotel.  I  was  glad  that 
they  were  marble  steps  and  that  the  house  had  once  been  a  pal 
ace,  otherwise  I  should  not  have  felt  I  was  making  the  most  of 
Venice. 

If  I  live  to  be  a  hundred  (one  of  the  Sisters  is  close  on  eighty) 
I  shall  never  forget  that  first  night  in  the  City  of  the  Sea. 

It  was  good  to  see  Mr.  Barrymore  back  again  for  dinner  in  the 
big  red  and  gold,  brightly  frescoed  dining-room;  and  it  was  he 
who  suggested  that  we  should  have  coffee  in  the  garden,  at  a 
table  on  a  balcony  built  over  the  water,  and  then  go  out  in 
gondolas. 

We  hired  three ;  and  as  there  are  only  two  absolutely  delightful 
seats  in  a  gondola,  I  was  trembling  lest  the  Prince  should  fall  to 
my  unlucky  lot,  when  Aunt  Kathryn  called  to  him,  "  Oh,  do  sit 
with  me,  please.  I  want  to  ask  about  your  friends  who  are  coming 
to  see  us.  "  So  of  course  he  went  to  her,  and  Sir  Ralph  jumped 
in  with  Beechy ;  therefore  the  Chauff eulier  was  obliged  to  be 
nice  to  me,  whether  he  liked  or  not.  We  all  kept  close  together, 
and  soon  the  three  gondolas,  following  many  others,  grouped 
round  a  lighted  music-barge  like  a  pyramid  of  illuminated  fruit 
floating  on  the  canal. 

Either  the  voices  were  sweet,  or  they  had  the  effect  of  being 
sweet  in  the  moonlight  on  the  water;  but  the  airs  they  sang  got 
strangely  tangled  with  the  songs  in  other  barges,  so  that  I  longed 
to  unwind  one  skein  of  tunes  from  another,  and  was  n't  sorry  to 
steal  away  into  the  silence  at  last. 

We  were  not  the  only  ones  who  flitted.  The  black  forms  of 
gondolas  moved  soundlessly  hither  and  thither  on  the  surface  of 
the  dark  lagoon,  their  single  lights  like  stars  in  the  blue  darkness. 

Far  away  twinkled  the  lamps  of  the  Lido,  where  Byron  and 
Shelley  used  to  ride  on  the  lonely  sands.  Near-by,  on  the  Piazzetta 
where  the  twin  columns  towered  against  the  silver  sky,  white 


A  CHAPTER  IN  FAIRYLAND  253 

bunches  of  lights  glimmered  like  magic  night-blooming  flowers, 
with  bright  roots  trailing  deep  down  into  the  river. 

We  talked  of  the  countless  great  ones  of  the  world  who  had 
lived  and  died  in  Venice,  and  loved  it  well;  of  Byron,  who  slept  in 
Marino  Faliero's  dreadful  cell  before  he  wrote  his  tragedy;  of 
Browning,  whose  funeral  had  passed  in  solemn  state  of  gondolas 
down  the  Grand  Canal ;  of  Wagner,  who  found  inspiration  in  this 
sea  and  sky,  and  died  looking  upon  them  from  his  window  in  the 
Palazzo  Vendramin.  But  through  our  talk  I  could  hear  Aunt 
Kathryn  in  her  gondola  close  by,  saying  how  like  the  Doge's 
palace  was  to  a  big  bird-cage  she  once  had ;  and  the  Prince  was 
continually  turning  his  head  to  see  if  we  were  near,  which  was 
disturbing.  We  had  nothing  to  say  that  all  the  world  might  not 
have  heard,  yet  instinctively  we  spoke  almost  in  whispers,  the 
Chauffeulier  and  I,  not  to  miss  a  gurgle  of  the  water  nor  the  dip 
of  an  oar,  which  in  the  soft  darkness  made  the  light  flutter  of  a 
bird  bathing. 

I  remembered  suddenly  how  Sir  Ralph  had  said  one  day, 
"  You  '11  like  Terry  in  Venice.  "  I  did  like  Terry  in  Venice;  and  I 
liked  him  better  than  ever  at  the  moment  of  our  return  to  the  hotel, 
for  there  began  a  little  adventure  of  which  he  became  the  hero. 

As  I  stepped  out  of  the  gondola  there  was  a  flash  and  a  splash. 
"  Oh  my  gold  bag ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  Your  present,  Aunt  Kath 
ryn.  It 's  in  the  canal;  I  shall  never  see  it  again. " 

"Yes,  you  will,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore.  "I—  " 

"  If  there  was  much  money  in  it,  you  had  better  have  a  pro 
fessional  diver  come  early  to-morrow  morning  from  the  Arsenal," 
the  Prince  broke  in. 

"  I  know  an  amateur  diver  who  will  get  back  the  bag  to-night 
—  now,  within  the  next  half-hour  I  hope, "  went  on  the  Chauf 
feulier. 

"  Indeed  ?  Where  do  you  propose  to  find  him  at  this  time  ?  " 
asked  the  Prince. 

"I  shall  find  him  inside  the  hotel,  and  have  him  out  here, 
ready  for  work  in  ten  minutes,  "  said  Mr.  Barrymore. 


254  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"What  fun!"  exclaimed  Beechy.  " We'll  wait  here  in  the 
moonlight  and  see  him  dive.  It  will  be  lovely. " 

Mr.  Banymore  was  gone  before  she  finished. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock.  The  music-barges  had  gone ;  the 
hotel  garden  was  deserted,  and  scarcely  a  moving  star  of  light 
glided  over  the  canal.  Our  three  gondolas,  drawn  up  like  car 
riages  at  the  marble  steps  of  the  Britannia,  where  the  water  lap 
ped  and  gurgled,  awaited  the  great  event.  The  Prince  pooh- 
poohed  the  idea  that  Mr.  Barrymore  could  find  a  diver,  or  that, 
if  he  did,  the  bag  could  be  retrieved  in  such  an  amateurish  way. 
But  I  had  learned  that  when  our  Chauffeulier  said  a  thing  could 
be  done,  it  would  be  done,  and  I  confidently  expected  to  see  him 
returning  accompanied  by  some  obviously  aquatic  creature. 

What  I  did  see  however,  was  a  great  surprise.  Something 
moved  in  the  garden,  under  the  curtain  of  creepers  that  draped 
the  nearest  overhanging  balcony.  Then  a  tall,  marble  statue, 
"  come  alive, "  vaulted  over  the  iron  railing  and  dropped  into  the 
lagoon. 

It  did  n't  seem  at  all  strange  that  a  marble  statue  should 
"come  alive"  in  Venice ;  but  what  did  seem  odd  was  that  it  should 
exactly  resemble  Mr.  Barrymore,  feature  for  feature,  inch  for 
inch. 

"Hullo,  Terry,  I  didn't  know  you  meant  to  do  that!"  ex 
claimed  Sir  Ralph.  "  You  are  a  lightning  change  artist.  " 

For  it  was  the  Chauffeulier,  in  a  bathing  suit  which  he  must 
have  hurriedly  borrowed  from  one  of  the  landlord's  tall  young 
sons,  and  he  was  swimming  by  the  side  of  my  gondola. 

"  I  meant  nothing  else, "  laughed  the  statue  in  the  water,  the 
moon  shining  into  his  eyes  and  on  his  noble  white  throat  as  he 
swam.  "Now,  Miss  Destrey,  show  me  exactly  how  you  stood 
when  you  dropped  your  bag,  and  I  think  I  can  promise  that  you 
shall  have  it  again  in  a  few  minutes. " 

"  If  I  'd  dreamed  of  this  I  would  n't  have  let  you  do  it, "  I 
said. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  'm  awfully  happy,  and  the  water  feels  like  warm 


A  CHAPTER  IN  FAIRYLAND  255 

silk.  Is  this  where  you  dropped  it  ?  Look  out  for  a  little  splash, 
please.  I  'm  going  down. " 

With  that  he  disappeared  under  the  canal,  and  stayed  down  so 
long  that  I  began  to  be  frightened.  It  seemed  impossible  that  any 
human  being  could  hold  his  breath  for  so  many  minutes ;  but  just 
as  my  anxiety  reached  boiling  point,  up  he  came,  dripping, 
laughing,  his  short  hair  in  wet  rings  on  his  forehead,  and  in  his 
hand,  triumphantly  held  up,  the  gold  bag. 

"  I  knew  where  to  grope  for  it,  and  I  felt  it  almost  the  first 
thing, "  he  said.  "  Please  forgive  my  wet  fingers. " 

"  Why,  there  's  something  red  on  the  gold.  It 's  blood ! "  I 
stammered,  forgetting  to  thank  him. 

"  Is  there  ?  What  a  bore !  But  it 's  nothing.  I  grazed  the  skin  of 
my  hands  a  little,  grubbing  about  among  the  stones  down  there, 
that 's  all. " 

"  It 's  a  great  deal, "  I  said.  "  I  can't  bear  to  think  you  Ve 
been  hurt  for  me. " 

"Why,  I  don't  even  feel  it,"  said  the  Chauffeulier.  "It 's  the 
bag  that  suffers.  But  you  can  have  it  washed.  " 

Yes,  I  could  have  it  washed.  Yet,  somehow,  it  would  seem 
almost  sacrilegious.  I  made  up  my  mind  without  saying  a  word, 
that  I  would  not  have  the  bag  washed.  I  would  keep  it  exactly  as 
it  was,  put  sacredly  away  in  some  box,  in  memory  of  this  night. 


XXI 

A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS 

"1L     "T"EVER   since  Anne  Boleyn  has  a  woman  so  lost 

^k         her  head  over  a  man  with  a  title  as  Mamma  over 

1    ^     Prince    Dalmar-Kalm, "   said    Beechy,   after   our 

week  at  Venice  was  half  spent.  And  I  wished  that, 

in  fair  exchange,  he  would  lose  his  over  Aunt  Kathryn  instead 

of  wasting  time  on  me,  and  casting  his  shadow  on  beautiful  days. 

Roses  and  lilies  appeared  on  my  writing-desk ;  they  were  from 
him.  Specimens  of  Venetian  sweets  (crystallized  fruits  stuck  on 
sticks,  like  fat  martyrs)  adorned  large  platters  on  the  table  by  the 
window  —  gifts  from  the  Prince.  If  I  admired  the  little  gargoylish 
sea-horses,  or  the  foolish  shell  ornaments  at  the  Lido,  I  was  sure 
to  find  some  when  I  came  home.  And  the  man  hinted  in  whis 
pers  that  the  attentions  of  the  Comte  and  Contessa  were  for  me. 

All  this  was  annoying  though  he  put  it  on  the  grounds  of  friend 
ship;  and  I  did  n't  like  the  Corraminis,  although  their  influence 
opened  doors  that  would  otherwise  have  been  closed.  Through 
them  we  saw  the  Comte  de  Bardi's  wonderful  Japanese  collec 
tion  of  the  Palazzo  Vendramin,  the  finest  in  the  world;  through 
them  we  had  glimpses  of  the  treasures  in  more  than  one  old 
palace ;  they  gave  us  a  picnic  dinner  in  their  lighted  gondola,  on 
the  lagoon,  with  many  elaborate  courses  cooked  in  chafing- 
dishes,  which  the  gondoliers  served.  They  took  us  to  Chioggia  on 
their  steam  yacht  which  —  it  seemed —  they  must  let  half  the 
year  to  afford  the  use  of  it  the  other  half. 

The  "  County  "  (as  Aunt  Kathryn  pronounces  him)  must  have 
been  handsome  before  his  good  looks  were  ravaged  by  small- 

256 


A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS  257 

pox.  As  it  is,  Beechy  compares  his  dark  face  to  a  "  plum  cake, 
from  which  somebody  has  picked  out  all  the  plums;"  and  the 
black  eyes,  deep  set  in  this  scarred  mask,  gaze  out  of  it  with  sin 
ister  effect.  Yet  his  manner  is  perfect,  witty,  and  gracious.  He 
speaks  English  fluently,  and  might  be  of  any  age  between  thirty- 
five  and  fifty.  As  for  the  Contessa,  she  has  the  profile  of  a  Boadi- 
cea  (with  which  I  could  never  feel  thoroughly  at  home  if  it  were 
mine)  and  the  walk  of  a  bewitched  table,  so  stout  she  is,  and  so 
square.  Her  principal  efforts  at  conversation  with  me  were  in 
praise  of  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm,  so  I  scarcely  appreciated  thenii 
Indeed,  the  Corraminis  repelled  me,  and  I  was  glad  to  spare  all 
their  distinguished  society  to  Aunt  Kathryn. 

Each  day  in  Venice  (not  counting  the  hours  spent  with  them 
and  the  Prince)  was  more  wonderful,  it  seemed,  than  the  day 
before. 

First  among  my  pictures  was  San  Marco,  which  I  went  out 
to  see  alone  early  in  the  morning,  but  met  Mr.  Barrymore  as  I 
inquired  my  way.  I  could  have  wished  for  that,  though  I  would  n't 
have  dreamed  of  asking  him  to  take  me.  As  we  went  through  the 
narrow  streets  of  charming  shops,  we  played  at  not  thinking  of 
what  was  to  come.  Then,  Mr.  Barrymore  said  suddenly,  "  Now 
you  may  look. "  So  I  did  look,  and  there  it  was,  the  wonder  of 
wonders,  more  like  a  stupendous  crown  of  jewels  than  a  church. 
Like  a  queen's  diadem,  it  gleamed  in  the  grey-white  Piazza,  un 
der  the  burning  azure  dome  of  the  sky. 

"  Oh,  we  've  found  the  key  of  the  rainbow,  and  come  close  to 
it!"  I  cried.  "What  a  marvel!  Can  human  beings  really  have 
made  it,  or  did  it  make  itself  as  gems  form  in  the  rocks,  and 
coral  under  the  sea  ?  " 

"  The  cornice  does  look  as  if  it  were  the  spray  of  the  sea,  toss 
ing  up  precious  stones  from  buried  treasures  beneath  the  waves, " 
he  answered.  "  But  you  're  right.  We  've  got  the  key  of  the  rain 
bow,  and  we  can  go  in. " 

I  walked  beside  him,  awe-struck,  as  if  I  were  passing  under  a 
spell.  There  could  be  no  other  building  so  beautiful  in  the  world, 


258  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

and  it  was  harder  than  ever  to  realize  that  man  had  created  it 
The  golden  mosaic  of  the  domed  roof,  arching  above  the  purple- 
brown  of  the  alabaster  walls,  was  like  sunrise  boiling  over  the 
massed  clouds  of  a  dark  horizon.  Light  seemed  generated  by 
the  glitter  of  that  mosaic;  and  the  small  white  windows  of  the 
dome  gained  such  luminous  blues  and  pale  gold  glints,  from  sky 
without  and  opal  gleams  within,  that  they  were  changed  to  stars. 
The  pavement  was  opaline,  too,  with  a  thousand  elusive  tints 
and  jewelled  colours,  waving  like  the  sea.  It  was  all  I  could  do  not 
to  touch  Mr.  Barrymore's  arm  or  hand  for  sympathy. 

We  did  n't  speak  as  we  passed  out.  I  was  almost  glad  when  the 
spell  was  broken  by  the  striking  of  the  great,  blue  clock  opposite 
San  Marco,  and  the  slow  procession  of  the  life-size  mechanical 
figures  which  only  open  their  secret  door  on  fete  days,  such  as 
this  chanced  to  be. 

Watching  the  stiff  saints  go  through  their  genuflexions  put  me 
in  a  good  mood  for  an  introduction  to  the  pigeons,  which  I  longed 
to  have  for  friends  —  strange  little  stately  ruffling  things,  al 
most  as  mechanical  in  their  strut  as  the  figures  of  the  clock; 
so  metallic,  too,  in  their  lustre,  that  I  could  have  believed  them 
made  of  painted  iron. 

Some  wore  short  grey  Eton  jackets,  with  white  blouses  show 
ing  behind ;  these  were  the  ladies,  and  their  faces  were  as  differ 
ent  as  possible  from  those  of  their  lovers.  So  were  the  dainty  little 
coral  feet,  for  alas!  the  masculine  shoes  were  the  pinker  and 
prettier;  and  the  males,  even  the  baby  ones,  were  absurdly  like 
English  judges  in  wigs  and  gowns. 

It  was  charming  to  watch  the  developments  of  pigeon  love- 
stories  on  that  blue-and-gold  day,  which  was  my  first  in  the 
Grand  Piazza  of  San  Marco.  How  the  lady  would  patter  away, 
and  pretend  she  did  n't  know  that  a  rising  young  judge  had  his 
eye  upon  her !  But  she  would  pause  and  feign  to  examine  a  grain 
of  corn,  which  I  or  some  one  else  had  thrown,  just  long  enough 
to  give  him  a  chance  of  preening  his  feathers  before  her,  spread 
ing  out  his  tail,  and  generally  cataloguing  his  perfections.  She 


A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS 

would  pretend  that  this  demonstration  had  no  effect  upon  her 
heart,  that  she  'd  seen  a  dozen  pigeons  within  an  hour  handsomer 
than  he;  but  the  instant  a  rival  belle  chanced  (only  it  was  n't 
chance  really)  to  hop  that  way  and  offer  outrageous  inducements 
to  flirtation,  she  decided  that,  after  all,  he  was  worth  having  — 
and,  alas !  sometimes  decided  too  late. 

That  same  afternoon  Mr.  Barrymore  took  me  to  the  little 
church  of  San  Giorgio  degli  Schiavoni  to  see  the  exquisite  Car- 
paccios,  because  he  was  of  opinion  that  Aunt  Kathryn  and 
Beechy  would  prefer  to  go  shopping.  Yet,  after  all,  who  should 
appear  there  but  Beechy  and  Sir  Ralph ! 

Beechy  thought  the  dragon  a  delightful  beast,  with  a  remark 
able  eye  for  the  picturesque,  judging  from  the  way  in  which  he 
had  arranged  the  remains  of  his  victims;  and  she  was  sorry  for 
him,  dragged  into  the  market-place,  so  pitifully  shrunken, 
beaten,  and  mortified  was  he.  She  wanted  to  live  in  all  the  me 
diaeval  castles  of  the  picture-backgrounds,  and  was  of  opin 
ion  that  the  basilisk's  real  intentions  had  been  misunderstood  by 
the  general  public  of  his  day.  "  I  should  love  to  have  such  a  comicv 
trotty  beast  to  lead  about  in  Central  Park, "  said  she.  "  Why  the 
octopi  that  the  people  cook  and  sell  in  the  streets  here  now,  are 
ever  so  much  horrider.  One  might  run  away  from  them,  if  you 
like.  Loathsome  creatures!  I  do  draw  the  line  at  an  animal 
whose  face  you  can't  tell  from  its  —  er  —  waist.  And  only  think 
of  eating  them!  I  'd  a  good  deal  rather  eat  a  basilisk.  " 

Beechy  was  also  convinced  —  before  she  crossed  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs  —  that  many  people,  especially  Americans,  would  pay 
large  sums  or  even  commit  crimes,  in  order  to  be  put  in  prison 
at  Venice.  "  Such  a  lovely  situation, "  she  argued,  "  and  lots  of 
historical  associations  too. "  But  afterwards,  when  she  had  seen 
where  Marino  Faliero  lay,  and  the  younr  Foscari,  she  was  in 
clined  to  change  her  mind.  "  Still, "  she  said,  "  it  would  be  an  ex 
perience  ;  and  if  you  could  n't  afford  to  stop  at  a  hotel,  it  might  be 
worth  trying,  if  you  did  n't  have  to  do  anything  very  bad,  and 
were  sure  of  getting  a  cell  on  the  canal.  " 


260  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

Neither  Beechy  nor  Aunt  Kathryn  cared  much  for  the 
churches  or  the  pictures,  so  they  and  Sir  Ralph  bargained  for 
Venetian  point  or  the  lace  of  Burano,  or  went  to  the  glass 
makers',  or  had  tea  at  the  Lido  with  the  Corraminis,  while  Mr. 
Barrymore  took  me  to  the  Frari,  the  Miracoli,  and  other 
churches  that  he  loved  best,  or  wandered  with  me  among  the 
glorious  company  of  artists  at  the  Accademia,  and  in  the  Doges' 
Palace.  But  Beechy  did  join  in  my  admiration  and  respect 
(mingled  with  a  kind  of  wondering  pity)  for  the  noble  army  of 
marble  lions  in  Venice. 

Oh,  those  poor,  splendid  lions !  How  sad  they  look,  how  bitter 
is  the  expression  of  their  ponderous  faces.  Especially  am  I 
haunted  by  the  left-hand  lion  in  the  Piazza,  degli  Lioni,  hard  by 
San  Marco.  What  can  have  happened  to  him,  that  he  should  be 
so  despairing  ?  Whatever  it  was,  he  has  never  got  over  it,  but  has 
concentrated  his  whole  being  in  one,  eight-oentury-long  howl 
ever  since.  He  is  the  most  impressive  of  the  tribe ;  but  there  are 
many  others,  big  and  little,  all  gloomy,  sitting  about  in  Piazzas, 
or  exposed  for  sale  in  shops,  or  squatting  on  the  railings  of  bal 
conies.  When  I  think  of  that  fair  city  in  the  sea,  I  shall  often 
want  to  run  back  and  try  to  comfort  some  of  those  lions. 

Beechy  was  with  me  in  this ;  and  as  for  Aunt  Kathryn,  even 
the  flattering  attentions  of  the  Corraminis  did  not  please  her 
more  than  our  experience  at  the  antiquaries',  which  we  owed  to 
Mr.  Barrymore. 

We  had  n't  been  in  Venice  for  twenty-four  hours  before  we 
saw  that  the  Chauffeulier  knew  the  place  almost  as  if  he  had 
been  born  there.  He  was  even  well  up  in  the  queer,  soft  Venetian 
patois,  with  hardly  a  consonant  left  in  it,  so  well  up  that  he  an 
nounced  himself  capable  of  bandying  words  and  measuring 
swords  with  the  curiosity-shop  keepers,  if  we  liked  to  "collect 
anything. " 

At  first  Aunt  Kathryn  thought  that  she  would  n't  bother; 
there  would  be  too  much  trouble  with  the  custom  house  at  home; 
but,  when  Beechy  happened  to  say  what  a  rare  thing  a  marble 


A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS          261 

well-head  or  a  garden  statue  five  hundred  years  old  would  be  con 
sidered  in  Denver,  she  weakened,  and  fell. 

The  idea  popped  into  Beechy  's  head  just  as  our  gondola  (it 
was  towards  the  end  of  our  week  in  Venice)  was  gliding  by  a 
beautiful,  shabby  old  palace  in  a  side  canal. 

A  canopy  of  grape-vines,  heavy  with  hanging  clusters  of 
emeralds  and  here  and  there  an  amethyst,  shadowed  a  carved 
water-gate.  Under  the  jade-green  water  gleamed  the  yellow 
marble  of  the  steps,  waving  with  seaweed  like  mermaids'  hair; 
and  in  the  dim  interior  behind  the  open  doors  there  were  vague 
gleams  of  gilded  chairs,  pale  glints  of  statuary,  and  rich  streaks 
of  colour  made  by  priests'  vestments  or  old  altar  hangings. 

"  I  don't  believe  even  Mrs.  Potter  Adriance  has  got  anything 
like  this  in  her  house,  though  they  call  it  so  elegant, "  remarked 
Beechy. 

That  speech  was  to  Aunt  Kathryn  what  valerian  is  to  a  pussy 
cat;  for  Mrs.  Potter  Adriance  (as  I  've  often  heard  since  I  made 
acquaintance  with  my  relations)  is  the  leader  of  Denver  society, 
and  is  supposed  once  to  have  said  with  a  certain  emphasis :  "  Who 
are  the  Kidders?" 

"  Perhaps  I  '11  just  step  in  and  see  what  they  've  got  here, "  said 
Aunt  Kathryn. 

"  It  is  n't  a  cheap  place, "  replied  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  This  man 
knows  how  to  charge.  If  you  want  any  marbles,  he  has  some  fine 
ones;  but  for  other  things  I  '11  take  you  somewhere  else,  where 
I  promise  you  shall  be  amused  and  not  cheated. " 

"I  think  our  yard  at  home  is  big  enough  for  two  or  three 
statues;  and  a  marble  well-head  and  a  sundial  would  be 
lovely,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Kathryn. 

"  We  '11  look  at  some, "  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  motioning  to  the 
gondolier.  "  But  now,  unless  you  're  to  pay  six  times  what  every 
thing  's  worth,  you  must  put  yourselves  in  my  hands.  Remember,, 
you  don't  care  to  glance  either  at  statues,  well-heads,  or  sundials." 

"  But  that 's  what  we  're  here  for!"  cried  Aunt  Kathryn. 

"  Ah,  but  the  man  must  n't  guess  that  for  the  world !  We  ap- 


262  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

pear  to  be  searching  for  —  let 's  say,  mirrors ;  but  not  finding  the 
kind  we  want,  we  may  deign  to  look  at  a  few  marbles  as  we 
pass.  We  don't  fancy  the  fellow's  stock;  still,  the  things  aren't 
bad;  we  may  decide  to  save  ourselves  the  trouble  of  going 
further.  Whatever  you  do,  don't  mention  a  price,  even  in 
English.  Appear  bored  and  indifferent,  never  pleased  or  anxious. 
When  I  ask  if  you  're  willing  to  pay  so  and  so,  drawl  out  *  no ' 
or  *  yes '  without  the  slightest  change  of  expression. " 

As  we  landed  on  the  wet  marble  steps  and  passed  into  the 
region  of  gilded  gleams  and  pearly  glints,  our  hearts  began  to 
beat  with  suppressed  excitement,  as  if  we  were  secret  plotters, 
scheming  to  carry  through  some  nefarious  design. 

Immediately  on  entering,  I  caught  sight  of  two  marble  baby 
lions  sitting  on  their  haunches  side  by  side  on  the  floor  with  fe 
rocious  expressions  on  their  little  carved  faces. 

"  I  must  have  those  for  myself, "  I  murmured  to  Mr.  Barry- 
more  in  a  painfully  monotonous  voice,  as  we  passed  along  a  nar 
row  aisle  between  groves  of  magnificent  antique  furniture."  They 
appeal  to  me.  Fate  means  us  for  each  other.  " 

But  at  this  moment  an  agreeable  and  well-dressed  Italian  was 
bowing  before  us.  He  was  the  proprietor  of  the  antiques,  and 
he  looked  more  like  a  philanthropic  millionaire  than  a  person 
with  whom  we  could  haggle  over  prices.  Without  glancing  at  my 
lions  ( I  knew  they  were  mine;  and  wanted  them  to  know  it)  or 
Aunt  Kathryn's  statues  and  well-heads,  Mr.  Barrymore  an 
nounced  that  he  would  glance  about  at  paintings  of  old  Venice. 
What  had  Signore  Ripollo  of  that  sort  ?  Nothing  at  present  ? 
Dear  me,  what  a  pity!  Lacquered  Japanese  temples,  then? 
What,  none  of  those?  Very  disappointing.  Well,  we  must  be 
going.  Hm !  not  a  bad  well-head,  that  one  with  the  procession  of 
the  Bucentaur  in  has  relief.  Too  obviously  repaired;  still,  if 
Signore  Ripollo  would  take  three  hundred  lire  for  it,  the  thing 
might  be  worth  picking  up.  And  that  little  pair  of  lions.  Perhaps 
the  ladies  might  think  them  good  enough  to  keep  a  door  open 
with,  if  they  did  n't  exceed  fifteen  lire  each. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS          263 

Signore  Ripollo  looked  shocked,  but  laughed  politely.  He 
knew  Mr.  Barrymore,  and  had  greeted  him  on  our  entrance  as 
an  old  acquaintance,  though,  in  his  exaggerated  Italian  way,  he 
gave  the  Chauffeulier  a  title  more  exalted  than  Beechy  had 
bestowed. 

"  Milord  will  always  have  his  joke ;  the  well-head  is  two  thousand 
lire ;  the  lions  fifty  each, "  I  thought  I  understood  him  to  remark. 

But  not  at  all.  Milord  was  not  joking.  Would  the  Signore 
sell  the  things  for  the  price  mentioned  —  yes  or  no  ? 

The  philanthropic  millionaire  showed  now  that  he  was  hurt. 
Why  did  not  Milord  ask  him  to  give  away  the  whole  contents  of 
his  shop  ? 

After  this  the  argument  began  to  move  at  express  speed,  and 
I  would  have  lost  track  of  everything  had  it  not  been  for  the 
gestures,  like  danger  signals,  all  along  the  way.  Mr.  Barrymore 
laughed ;  Signore  Ripollo  passed  from  injured  dignity  to  indig 
nation,  then  to  passion;  and  there  we  sat  on  early  Renaissance 
chairs,  our  outward  selves  icily  regular,  splendidly  null,  our  fea 
tures  as  hard  as  those  of  the  stone  lions,  our  bodies  in  much  the 
same  attitudes,  on  our  uncomfortable  seats.  But  inwardly  we 
felt  like  Torturers  of  the  Inquisition,  and  I  knew  by  Aunt 
Kathryn's  breathing  that  she  could  hardly  help  exclaiming,  "  Oh, 
do  pay  the  poor  man  whatever  he  asks  for  everything. " 

"  Will  you  give  five  hundred  lire  for  the  well-head  ?  "  Mr.  Bar 
rymore  finally  demanded,  with  a  reminder  of  past  warnings  in 
his  eye. 

"  Yes, "  answered  Aunt  Kathryn  languidly,  her  hands  clenched 
under  a  lace  boa. 

•"  And  will  you  give  twenty  lire  each  for  the  lions  ?  They  are 
very  good.  "  (This  to  me,  drawlingly.) 

"  Ye-es, "  I  returned,  without  moving  a  muscle. 

The  offers  were  submitted  to  Signore  Ripollo,  who  received 
them  with  princely  scorn,  as  I  had  felt  sure  he  would,  and  my 
heart  sank  as  I  saw  my  lions  vanishing  in  the  smoke  of  his  just 
wrath. 


264  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"Come,  we  will  go;  the  Signore  is  not  reasonable, "  said  Mr. 
Barrymore. 

We  all  rose  obediently,  but  our  anguish  was  almost  past  hid 
ing. 

"  I  can't  and  won't  live  without  the  lions, "  I  remarked  in  the 
tone  of  one  who  says  it  is  a  fine  day. 

"  I  will  not  leave  this  place  without  that  well-head,  the  statue 
of  Neptune,  and  the  yellow  marble  sundial, "  said  Aunt  Kathryn 
in  a  casual  tone  which  masked  a  breaking  heart. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Barrymore  continued  to  lead  us  towards  the 
door.  He  bowed  to  Signore  Ripollo;  and  by  this  time  we  were  at 
the  steps  of  the  water-gate.  The  gondoliers  were  ready.  Driven 
to  desperation  we  were  about  to  protest,  when  the  Italian,  with 
the  air  of  a  falsely  accused  Doge  haled  to  execution,  stopped  us. 
"Have  your  way,  milord,  as  you  always  do,"  he  groaned.  "I 
paid  twice  more  for  these  beautiful  things  than  you  give  me, 
but  —  so  be  it.  They  are  yours. " 

True  to  our  instructions  we  dared  not  betray  our  feelings ;  but 
when  the  business  had  actually  been  arranged,  and  our  gondola 
had  borne  us  away  from  the  much-injured  antiquary,  Aunt 
Kathryn  broke  out  at  the  ChaufFeulier. 

"  How  could  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  never  was  so  sick  in  my 
life.  That  poor  man !  You  've  made  us  rob  him.  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  hold  up  my  head  again. " 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  's  delighted, "  said  Mr.  Barrymore 
jauntily.  "  If  we  'd  given  him  what  he  asked  he  would  have 
despised  us.  Now  we  've  earned  his  respect.  " 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  gasped  Aunt  Kathryn  inelegantly,  forgetful 
for  the  moment  that  she  was  a  Countess.  "  I  suppose  I  can  be 
happy,  then  ?  " 

"  You  can,  without  a  qualm, "  said  Mr.  Barrymore. 

"  Where  's  that  other  place  you  spoke  of  ?  "  she  inquired,  half- 
ashamed.  "  There  's  a  —  a  kind  of  excitement  in  this  sort  of 
thing,  is  n't  there  ?  I  feel  as  if  it  might  grow  on  me. " 

"  We  '11  go  to  Beppo's, "  replied  the  Chauffeulier,  laughing. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  STRANGE  SPELLS          265 

Beppo  was  a  very  different  man  from  Signore  Ripollo,  nor  had 
he  a  palace  with  a  water-gate  to  show  his  wares.  We  left  the  gon 
dola,  and  walked  up  a  dark  and  narrow  rioterra  with  coquet 
tish,  black-shawled  grisettes  chatting  at  glowing  fruit-stalls  and 
macaroni  shops.  There,  at  a  barred  iron  door,  Mr.  Barrymore 
pulled  a  rope  which  rang  a  jangling  bell.  After  a  long  interval,  a 
little,  bent  old  man  in  a  shabby  coat  and  patched  trousers  ap 
peared  against  a  background  of  mysterious  brown  shadow.  Into 
this  shadow  we  plunged,  following  him,  to  be  led  through  a  laby 
rinth  of  queer  passages  and  up  dark  stairways  to  the  top  of  the 
old,  old  house.  There,  in  the  strangest  room  I  ever  saw,  we  were 
greeted  by  a  small  brown  woman,  as  shabby  as  her  husband,  and 
a  supernaturally  clever  black  cat. 

A  grated  window  set  high  up  and  deep  in  the  discoloured  wall, 
allowed  a  few  rays  of  yellow  sunlight  to  fall  revealingly  upon  a 
motley  collection  of  antiquities.  Empire  chairs  were  piled  upon 
Louis  Quinze  writing-desks.  Tables  of  every  known  period 
formed  a  leaning  tower  in  one  corner.  Rich  Persian  rugs  draped 
huge  Florentine  mirrors ;  priests'  vestments  trailed  from  half -open 
chests  of  drawers.  Brass  candlesticks  and  old  Venetian  glass 
were  huddled  away  in  inlaid  cabinets,  and  half -hidden  with  old 
illuminated  breviaries  and  pinned  rolls  of  lace. 

A  kind  of  madness  seized  Aunt  Kathryn.  She  must  have 
thought  of  Mrs.  Potter  Adriance,  for  suddenly  she  wanted 
everything  she  saw,  and  said  so,  sotto  voce,  to  Mr.  Barrymore. 

Then  the  bargaining  began.  And  there  was  nothing  Dog-like 
about  Beppo.  He  laughed  high-keyed,  sardonic  laughter;  he 
scolded,  he  quavered,  he  pleaded,  he  was  finally  choked  with 
sobs;  while  as  for  his  wife,  she,  poor  little  wisplike  body,  early 
succumbed  to  whatever  is  Venetian  for  nervous  prostration. 

Surely  the  Chauffeulier  could  not  bear  the  strain  of  this  agoniz 
ing  scene  ?  Our  consciences  heavy  with  brass  candlesticks  and 
Marquise  sofas,  we  stood  looking  on,  appalled  at  his  callousness. 
Beppo  and  Susanna  cried  weakly  that  this  would  be  their  ruin, 
that  we  were  ringing  the  last  drops  of  blood  from  their  hearts,  we 


266  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

cruel  rich  ones,  and  in  common  humanity  I  would  have  interven 
ed  had  the  pair  not  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  wreathed  their 
withered  countenances  with  smiles. 

"What  has  happened?  Are  you  giving  them  what  they 
wanted  ?"  I  asked  breathlessly;  for  long  ago  I  had  lost  track  of 
the  conversation. 

"  No ;  I  promised  them  twenty  lire  over  my  first  offer  for  that 
whole  lot, "  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  indicating  a  heap  of  miscel 
laneous  articles  reaching  half-way  to  the  ceiling,  for  which,  alto 
gether,  Beppo  had  demanded  two  thousand  lire,  and  our  offer 
had  been  seven  hundred. 

I  could  have  prayed  the  poor  old  peoples'  forgiveness,  but  to 
my  astonishment,  as  we  went  out  they  beamed  with  pleasure  and 
thanked  us  ardently  for  our  generosity. 

"  Is  it  sarcasm  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  No,  it 's  pure  delight, "  said  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  They  've  done 
the  best  day's  work  of  the  season,  and  they  don't  mind  our  know 
ing  it  —  now  it 's  over.  " 

"  Human  nature  is  strange, "  I  reflected. 

"Especially  in  antiquarians,"  he  replied. 

But  we  arrived  at  the  hotel  feeling  weak,  and  were  thankful 
for  tea. 


XXII 

A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE 

WE  all  felt  when  we  had  said  good-bye  to  Venice  that 
we  had  a  definite  object  in  view,  and  there  was  to 
be   no  more  pleasant   dawdling.  It  was   ho  for 
Schloss  Hrvoya !  Aunt  Kathryn  had  suddenly  dis 
covered  that  she  was  impatient  to  see  the  ancient  root  from 
which  blossomed  her  cherished  title,  and  nothing  must  delay 
her  by  the  way. 

I  should  have  wondered  at  her  change  of  mood,  and  at  the 
Prince's  new  enthusiasm  for  the  Dalmatian  trip  —  which,  until 
our  arrival  in  Venice,  he  'd  tried  to  discourage  —  but  Beechy 
explained  frankly  as  usual.  It  seemed  that  Count  Corramim 
(said  by  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  to  possess  vast  funds  of  legal 
knowledge)  had  intimated  that  the  Countess  Dalmar-Kalm  was 
not  rightfully  a  Countess  until  every  penny  was  paid  for  the  estate 
carrying  the  title.  That  same  day,  without  waiting  to  be  asked, 
she  had  given  the  Prince  a  cheque  for  the  remaining  half  of  the 
money.  Now  if  she  finds  scarce  one  stone  left  upon  another  at 
Schloss  Hrvoya,  she  can't  cry  off  her  bargain,  so  it 's  easy  to  un 
derstand  why  the  Prince  is  no  longer  anxious.  Exactly  why  he 
should  seem  so  eager  to  get  us  to  our  destination  is  more  of  a  puz 
zle;  but  perhaps,  as  Beechy  thinks,  it 's  because  he  hopes  to  in 
fluence  Aunt  Kathryn  to  rebuild.  And  certainly  he  has  influenced 
her  in  some  way,  for  she  could  hardly  wait  to  leave  Venice  at  the 
last. 

We  went  as  we  had  come,  by  water,  for  we  would  n't  conde 
scend  to  the  railway;  and  at  the  landing-place  for  Mestre  our 

267 


268  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

grey  automobile  stood  waiting  for  us,  so  well-cared  for  and  pol 
ished  that  it  might  just  have  come  from  the  makers,  instead  of 
having  charged  at  full  tilt  "  up  the  airy  mountains  and  down  the 
rushy  glens  "  of  half  Europe. 

It  was  goddess-like  to  be  in  the  car  again,  yet  I  regretted  Venice 
as  I  've  regretted  no  other  place  I  ever  saw.  Even  when  there,  it 
seemed  too  beautiful  to  be  real,  but  when  we  lost  sight  of  its  fair 
towers  and  domes,  in  bowling  northward  along  a  level  road,  I 
grew  sadly  convinced  that  Venice  was  a  fairy  dream. 

We  saw  nothing  to  console  us  for  what  we  had  lost  (tliough  the 
scenery  had  a  soft  and  melancholy  charm)  until  we  came  to  old 
fortified  Treviso,  with  its  park,  and  the  green  river  Dante  knew, 
circling  its  high  walls. 

At  Conegliano  —  where  Cima  lived  —  we  ran  into  the  town 
between  its  guardian  statues,  gave  a  glance  at  the  splendid  old 
castle  which  must  have  given  the  gentle  painter  many  an  inspi 
ration,  and  then  turned  eastward.  There  was  a  shorter  way,  but 
the  route-book  of  the  Italian  Touring  Club  which  the  ChaufTeu- 
lier  pinned  his  faith  to  in  emergencies,  showed  that  the  surface  of 
the  other  road  was  not  so  good.  Udine  tried  to  copy  Venice  in 
miniature,  and  I  loved  it  for  its  ambition ;  but  what  interested  me 
the  most  was  to  hear  from  Mr.  Barrymore  how,  on  the  spot 
where  its  castle  stands,  Attila  watched  the  burning  of  Aquileia. 
That  seemed  to  take  me  down  to  the  roots  of  Venetian  history; 
and  I  could  picture  the  panic-stricken  fugitives  flying  to  the  la 
goons,  and  beginning  to  raise  the  wattled  huts  which  have  culmi 
nated  in  the  queen  city  of  the  sea.  From  Udire  we  went  south 
ward  ;  and  at  the  Austrian  custom  house,  across  the  frontier,  we 
had  to  unroll  yards  of  red  tape  before  we  were  allowed  to  pass. 
Almost  at  once,  when  we  were  over  the  border,  the  scenery,  the 
architecture,  and  even  the  people's  faces,  changed;  not  gradually, 
but  with  extraordinary  abruptness,  or  so  it  seemed  to  me. 

Just  before  dark  we  sailed  into  a  great,  busy  town,  with  a  sur 
prising  number  of  enormous,  absolutely  useless-looking  build 
ings.  It  was  Trieste,  Austria's  biggest  port;  and  the  Prince,  who 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  269 

had  kept  near  us  for  the  hundred  and  thirty  miles  from  Venice, 
began  to  wear  an  air  of  pride  in  his  own  country.  He  wanted  us 
to  admire  the  fine  streets  and  shops,  and  made  us  notice  how 
everywhere  were  to  be  seen  Greek,  Russian,  Polish,  French,  Ger 
man,  Italian,  and  even  English  names.  "That  proves  what  a 
great  trade  we  do,  and  how  all  the  world  comes  to  us,"  he 
said. 

Our  hotel  was  close  to  the  quay,  and  there  were  a  thousand 
things  of  interest  to  watch  from  the  windows  when  we  got  up  next 
morning,  as  there  always  are  in  places  where  the  world  "goes 
down  to  the  sea  in  ships." 

At  breakfast  there  was  a  discussion  as  to  our  route,  which, 
owing  to  suggestions  and  counter-suggestions  from  the  Prince, 
had  n't  been  decided.  The  Chauffeulier  wanted  to  run  through 
Istria  and  show  us  Capodistria  (another  copy  of  Venice),  Ro- 
vigno,  and  Pola,  which  he  said  had  not  only  a  splendid  Roman 
amphitheatre,  but  many  other  sights  worth  making  a  detour  for. 
I  was  fired  by  his  description,  for  what  I  've  seen  of  Northern 
Italy  has  stimulated  my  love  for  history  and  the  architecture  of 
the  ancients;  but  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  persuaded  Aunt  Kathryn 
that,  as  the  neighbourhood  of  Cattaro  is  our  goal,  it  would  be  a 
waste  of  time  to  linger  on  the  threshold  of  Dalmatia. 

"  Why,  a  little  while  ago  you  thought  it  stupid  to  go  into  Dal 
matia  at  all,"  said  Beechy.  "You  warned  us  we  5d  have  trouble 
about  petrol,  about  roads,  about  hotels,  about  everything." 

"I  have  been  talking  since  with  Corramini,"  replied  the 
Prince  unruffled.  "  He  has  motored  through  the  country  we  are 
going  to,  and  I  see  from  his  accounts,  that  the  journey  is  more 
feasible  than  I  had  thought,  knowing  the  way  as  I  did,  only 
from  a  yacht." 

"  Funny  he  should  be  more  familiar  with  the  country  than  you, 
as  you  've  got  a  castle  there,"  Beechy  soliloquized  aloud. 

"I  make  no  secret  that  I  have  never  lived  at  Hrvoya,"  the 
Prince  answered.  "Neither  I,  nor  my  father  before  me.  The 
house  where  I  was  born  is  at  Abbazzia.  That  is  why  I  want  you 


270  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

to  go  that  way.  It  is  no  longer  mine;  but  I  should  like  you  to 
see  it,  since  you  cannot  at  present  see  Schloss  Kalm,  near 
Vienna." 

"You  seem  so  fond  of  selling  your  houses,  why  don't  you 
offer  Mamma  the  one  near  Vienna,  if  it 's  the  best  ?  "  persisted 
naughty  Beechy. 

"  I  could  not  sell  it  if  I  would,"  smiled  the  Prince,  who  for  some 
reason  is  almost  always  good-natured  now.  "  And  if  I  offer  it  to  a 
lady,  she  must  be  the  Princess  Dalmar-Kalm." 

I  felt  that  a  glance  was  thrown  to  me  with  these  words,  but  I 
looked  only  at  my  plate. 

The  conversation  ended  by  the  Prince  getting  his  way,  as  he 
had  made  Aunt  Kathryn  think  it  her  way :  and  we  gave  up  Istria. 
Soon  after  ten  we  were  en  route  for  Abbazzia  —  close  to  Fiume  — 
slanting  along  the  neck  of  the  Istrian  peninsula  by  a  smooth  and 
well-made  road  that  showed  the  Austrians  were  good  at  high 
ways. 

It  was  but  thirty  miles  from  sea  to  sea,  and  so  sweetly  did  the 
car  run,  so  little  were  we  troubled  by  cantankerous  creatures  of 
any  sort,  that  we  descended  from  high  land  and  before  twelve 
o'clock  ran  into  as  perfect  a  little  watering  place  as  can  exist  on 
earth. 

Aunt  Kathryn  was  prepared  to  like  Abbazzia  before  she  saw 
it,  because  it  was  the  scene  of  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm's  birth,  and 
also  because  she  'd  been  told  it  was  the  favourite  resort  of  Aus 
trian  aristocracy.  I  had  n't  listened  much,  because  I  had  clung  to 
the  idea  of  visiting  historic  Pola;  but  Abbazzia  captured  me  at 
first  glance. 

Everywhere  was  beauty  and  peace.  The  Adriatic  spread  itself 
pure  and  clean  as  a  field  of  spring  flowers,  and  as  full  of  delicate 
changing  colour.  Away  on  a  remote  horizon  —  remote  as  all 
trouble  and  worry  seemed,  in  this  fair  spot  —  hovered  islands, 
opaline  and  shimmering,  like  a  mirage.  Nearer  rose  a  stretch  of 
green  hills,  travelling  by  the  seashore  until  they  fell  back  for 
Fiume,  a  white  town  veiled  with  a  light  mist  of  smoke. 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  271 

But  for  Abbazzia  itself,  it  seemed  the  most  unconventional 
pleasure  place  I  ever  knew.  Instead  of  a  smart  "  parade  "  all  along 
the  rocky  indentations  which  jutted  into  or  receded  from  the  sea, 
ran  a  winding  rustic  path,  tiny  blue  waves  crinkling  on  one  side ; 
on  the  other,  fragrant  groves  of  laurel,  olives,  magnolias,  and 
shady  chestnut-trees. 

We  walked  there,  after  lunching  at  quite  a  grand  hotel,  which, 
the  Prince  told  Aunt  Kathryn,  was  full  of  "  crowned  heads  "  in 
winter  and  earlier  spring.  Nowhere  else  have  I  seen  the  beauty  of 
sea  and  shore  so  exquisitely  mingled  as  on  this  path  overhanging 
the  Adriatic,  nor  have  I  smelled  more  heavenly  smells,  even  at 
Bellagio.  There  was  the  salt  of  the  sea,  the  rank  flavour  of  sea 
weed,  mingled  with  the  sharp  fragrance  of  ferns,  of  young  grass, 
of  budding  trees,  and  all  sweet,  woodsy  things. 

Along  the  whole  length  of  the  gay,  quaint  town,  ran  the  beau 
tiful  path,  winding  often  like  a  twisted  ribbon,  but  never  leaving 
the  sea.  Behind  it,  above  and  beyond,  was  the  unspoiled  forest 
only  broken  enough  for  the  cutting  of  shaded  streets,  and  the 
building  of  charming  houses,  their  fronts  half  windows  and  the 
other  half  balconies. 

The  dark  rocks  starred  with  flowers  to  the  water's  edge,  looked 
as  if  there  had  been  a  snow-storm  of  gulls,  while  the  air  was  full 
of  theft  wistful  cries,  and  the  singing  of  merry  land  birds  that 
tried  to  cheer  them. 

Each  house  by  the  sea  (the  one  where  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm 
first  saw  the  light,  among  others)  had  its  own  bathing  place,  and 
pretty  young  girls  laughed  and  splashed  in  the  clear  water.  Up 
above,  in  the  town,  were  public  gardens,  many  hotels,  theatres, 
and  fascinating  shops  displaying  embroideries  and  jewelry  from 
Bosnia,  which  made  me  feel  the  nearness  of  the  East  as  I  had  n't 
felt  it  before,  even  in  Venice. 

We  could  not  tear  ourselves  away  in  the  afternoon,  but  spent 
hours  in  a  canopied  boat,  dined  in  the  hotel  garden,  and  bathed 
in  the  creamy  sea  by  late  moonlight,  the  Chauffeulier  giving  me  a 
lesson  in  swimming.  Aunt  Kathryn  grudged  the  time,  but  we 


272  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

overruled  her,  and  atoned  by  promising  to  go  on  each  day  after 
this  to  the  bitter  end,  whatever  that  might  be. 

Next  morning,  by  way  of  many  hills  and  much  fine  scenery  we 
travelled  towards  a  land  beyond  the  motor  zone.  Though  the 
roads  were  good  enough,  if  steep  sometimes,  judging  by  the  man 
ners  of  animals  four-legged  and  two-legged,  automobiles  were  un 
known.  Only  children  were  not  surprised  at  us;  but  then,  chil 
dren  are  n't  easily  surprised  by  new  things,  I  've  noticed.  They 
have  had  so  few  experiences  to  found  impressions  on,  that  I  sup 
pose  they  would  think  a  fiery  chariot  nothing  extraordinary, 
much  less  a  motor-car.  The  costumes  began  to  change  from  or 
dinary  European  dress  to  something  with  a  hint  of  the  barbaric 
in  it.  Here  and  there  we  would  see  a  coarse-featured  face  as  dark 
as  that  of  a  Mongolian,  or  would  hear  a  few  curious  words  which 
the  Chauffeulier  said  were  Slavic.  The  biting,  alkaline  names  of 
the  small  Dalmatian  towns  through  which  we  ran  seemed  to 
shrivel  our  tongues  and  dry  up  our  systems.  There  was  much 
thick,  white  dust,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  the  amateurs  of  the 
party,  we  once  or  twice  had  "  side  slip  "  in  it. 

How  we  hated  the  "  mended  "  roads  with  their  beds  of  stone, 
though  near  rivers  they  were  not  so  bad,  as  the  pebbles  instead  of 
being  sharp  were  naturally  rounded.  But  Aunt  Kathryn 
would  n't  hear  a  word  against  the  country,  which  was  her  coun 
try  now.  Once,  when  the  cylinders  refused  to  work,  for  some  rea 
son  best  known  to  themselves  or  the  evil  spirits  that  haunt  them, 
we  were  "hung  up"  for  twenty  minutes,  and  surrounded  with 
strange,  dark  children  from  a  neighbouring  hamlet,  Aunt  Kath 
ryn  insisted  on  giving  each  a  coin  of  some  sort,  and  received  grin 
ning  acknowledgments  with  the  air  of  a  crowned  queen.  "  I  dare 
say  I  shall  have  tenants  and  retainers  like  these  people,"  said  she, 
with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 

For  a  part  of  our  journey  down  the  narrow  strip  of  strange 
coast,  we  had  on  one  side  a  range  of  stony  mountains;  on  the 
other,  only  a  little  way  across  the  sea,  lay  desolate  islands  rising 
in  tiers  of  pink  rock  out  of  the  milk-white  Adriatic.  But  before 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  273 

long  we  lost  the  sea  and  the  lonely  islands ;  for  at  a  place  named 
Segna  our  road  turned  inland  and  climbed  a  high  mountain  • — 
the  Velebit  —  at  whose  feet  we  had  been  travelling. 

As  we  were  trying  to  make  a  run  of  more  than  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles  —  a  good  deal  for  a  heavily-loaded  car  of 
twelve  horse-power  —  the  Chauff eulier  kept  the  automobile  con 
stantly  going  "for  all  she  was  worth."  He  had  planned  that  we 
should  spend  the  night  at  the  sea-coast  town  of  Zara  —  that  place 
so  inextricably  tangled  up  in  Venetian  history  —  for  there  we 
might  find  a  hotel  fit  to  stop  at. 

About  midday  we  lunched  at  a  mean  town  called  Gospic,  and 
vast  was  the  upheaval  that  our  advent  caused. 

As  we  drove  in,  looking  right  and  left  for  the  cleanest  inn,  every 
able-bodied  person  under  seventy  and  several  considerably  over 
ran  to  follow,  their  figures  swarming  after  us  as  a  tail  follows  a 
comet.  At  the  door  of  our  chosen  lunching-place  they  surged 
round  the  car,  pressing  against  us,  and  even  plucking  at  our 
dresses  as  we  pushed  through  into  the  house.  Spray  from  this 
human  wave  tossed  into  the  passage  and  eating-room  in  our 
wake,  until  the  burly  innkeeper,  his  large  wife,  and  two  solid 
handmaidens  swept  it  out  by  sheer  weight. 

Mr.  Barrymore  was  afraid  to  leave  the  car,  lest  it  should  be 
damaged,  so  he  sat  in  it,  eating  bread  and  cheese  with  imperturb 
able  good  humour,  though  every  mouthful  he  took  was  watched 
down  his  throat  by  a  hundred  eager  eyes. 

The  landlord  waited  upon  us  himself,  and  could  speak  Ger 
man  and  Italian  as  well  as  his  own  Croatian  or  Slavish  dialect. 
We  were  surprised  at  the  goodness  of  the  luncheon,  and  Sir 
Ralph  was  surprised  at  the  cheapness  of  the  bill.  "  It  will  be  dif 
ferent  when  they  've  turned  this  coast  into  the  Austrian  Riviera, 
as  they  're  trying  to  do,"  he  said. 

When  we  appeared  at  the  door  again,  ready  to  go  on,  there  fell 
a  heavy  silence  on  the  Chauff eulier's  audience.  Not  only  had  they 
had  the  entertainment  of  watching  him  feed,  but  had  observed 
with  fearful  awe  the  replenishing  of  the  petrol  and  water-tanks 


274  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

and  examination  of  the  lubricators.  Now  they  had  the  extra 
pleasure  of  seeing  us  put  on  our  motor-masks  and  take  our  places. 
When  all  was  ready  Mr.  Barryniore  seized  the  starting  handle, 
and  gave  it  the  one  vigorous  twist  which  wakes  the  engine  when  it 
is  napping.  But  almost  for  the  first  time  the  motor  was  refractory. 
The  handle  recoiled  so  violently  and  unexpectedly  that  the 
Chauffeulier  staggered  back  and  trod  on  the  toes  of  the  fat  man  of 
the  crowd,  while  at  the  same  time  there  burst  from  the  inner  be 
ing  of  the  car  a  loud  report.  At  this  sign  of  the  motor's  power  and 
rebellion  against  him  whom  it  should  have  obeyed,  the  audience 
uttered  cries,  scattering  right  and  left,  so  as  to  leave  a  large  ring 
round  the  automobile  which  before  had  not  had  room  to 
breathe. 

"  Misfire,  that 's  all,"  said  Mr.  Barrymore,  laughing  and  show 
ing  his  nice  white  teeth  in  a  comforting  way  he  has  when  any 
thing  alarming  has  happened.  Next  instant  the  motor  was  docile 
as  a  lamb;  the  engine  began  to  purr;  the  Chauffeulier  jumped  to 
his  seat,  and,  followed  by  a  vast  sigh  from  the  crowd,  we  darted 
away  at  thirty  miles  an  hour. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  a  changing  dream  of  strange  impres 
sions,  which  made  Aunt  Kathryn  feel  as  if  Denver  were  at  least 
a  million  miles  away.  We  climbed  once  more  up  to  the  heights  of 
the  Velebit,  seeing  from  among  the  dark,  giant  pines  which 
draped  it  in  mourning,  the  great  forests  of  Croatia,  Lika,  and 
Krabava,  with  their  conical  mountains,  and  far  off  the  chains  of 
Bosnia.  Then,  at  a  bound,  we  leaped  into  sight  of  the  Adriatic 
again  and  sped  down  innumerable  lacets  overlooking  the  beauti 
ful  land-locked  sea  of  Novigrad,  to  tumble  at  last  upon  the  little 
town  of  Obrovazzo.  Thence  we  flew  on,  over  an  undulating  road, 
towards  Dalmatians  capital,  Zara. 

Just  as  anachronistic  electric  lights  had  shown  us  the  way 
through  curiously  Italian  streets,  with  beautifully  ornamented 
windows,  past  a  noble  Corinthian  column  and  out  onto  a  broad 
space  by  the  sea,  without  a  warning  sigh  the  automobile  stopped. 

"  Our  last  drop  of  petrol ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Barrymore.  "  Lucky 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  275 

it  did  n't  give  out  before,  as  I  began  to  be  afraid  it  might,  owing 
to  the  hills." 

"  By  Jove !  this  does  n't  look  the  sort  of  town  to  buy  food  and 
drink  for  motors ! "  remarked  Sir  Ralph  ruefully. 

The  Chauffeulier  laughed.  "Ours  won't  starve,"  said  he.  "I 
thought  you  knew  I.'d  ordered  tins  of  petrol  to  meet  us  at  every 
big  town,  for  fear  of  trouble.  It  will  come  down  by  boat,  and  I 
shall  find  the  Zara  lot  waiting  for  me  at  the  Austrian  Lloyd's 
storehouse.  You  'd  have  remembered  that  arrangement  if  your 
wits  had  n't  been  wool-gathering  a  bit  lately." 

"  I  wonder  if  they  have  ?  "  soliloquized  Sir  Ralph.  "  Well,  here 
we  are  within  three  yards  of  a  hotel  which,  if  I  've  any  brains 
left,  is  the  very  one  you  selected  from  Baedeker." 

We  all  got  out  as  if  we  had  stopped  on  purpose,  and  the  hotel 
which  Fate  and  our  Chauffeulier  had  chosen  proved  very  fair, 
though  too  modern  to  be  in  the  picture. 

If  the  automobile  had  flashed  us  to  Mars  things  could  hardly 
have  been  more  unfamiliar  to  our  eyes  than  when  we  walked  out 
next  morning  to  find  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  a  great  fete. 

Flags  were  everywhere:  in  arched  windows,  rich  with  sculp 
tured  stone;  flying  over  the  great  gates  of  the  city;  festooned  in 
the  charming  little  houses  with  fountain  courts  surrounded  by 
columns.  The  peasants  of  the  country  round  had  flocked  to  town 
for  the  holiday.  Dark,  velvet-eyed  girls  in  short  dresses  of  bright- 
coloured  silk  heavy  with  gold  embroidery,  their  hair  hidden  by 
white  head-dresses  flashing  with  sequins,  and  tall  men  in  long 
frock  coats  of  dark  crimson  or  yellow,  were  exactly  like  a  stage 
crowd  in  some  wonderful  theatre ;  while  handsome  Austrian  offi 
cers  wearing  graceful  blue  cloaks  draped  over  one  shoulder,  might 
have  been  operatic  heroes. 

There  was  strange  music  in  the  streets,  and  a  religious  proces 
sion,  which  we  followed  for  some  time  on  our  way  to  the  maras 
chino  factory  which  Mr.  Barrymore  said  we  must  see.  Of  course, 
some  monks  had  invented  the  liqueur,  as  they  always  do,  but  per 
haps  the  cherries  which  grow  only  among  those  mountains,  and 


276  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

can't  be  exported,  had  as  much  to  do  with  the  original  success  of 
the  liqueur  as  the  existence  of  the  recipe. 

If  Aunt  Kathryn  had  listened  to  Mr.  Barrymore  and  me  we 
would  have  gone  from  Zara  inland  to  a  place  called  Knin,  to 
visit  the  cataract  of  Krka,  described  as  a  combination  of  Niagara 
and  the  Rhine  Falls.  But  she  said  that  the  very  sound  of  the 
names  would  make  a  cat  want  to  sneeze,  and  she  was  sure  she 
would  take  her  death  of  cold  there.  So  the  proposal  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  we  kept  to  the  coast  route,  the  shortest  way  of  get 
ting  to  Ragusa  and  Cattaro. 

When  we  had  climbed  out  of  Zara  by  the  old  post  road,  begun 
by  Venice  and  finished  by  Austria,  our  way  lay  among  the  famous 
cherry-trees  which  have  made  Zara  rich.  There  were  miles  of  un 
dulating  country  and  fields  of  wheat,  interspersed  with  vines  and 
almond  trees  which  mingled  with  the  cherries.  The  pastures 
where  sheep  and  goats  grazed  were  blue  and  pink  with  violets  and 
anemones ;  here  and  there  was  an  old  watch-tower,  put  up  against 
the  Turks;  and  the  rich  peasants  drove  in  quaint  flat  chaises, 
which  looked  as  if  the  occupants  were  sitting  in  large  pancakes. 

With  a  motor  it  was  not  far  to  Sebenico,  which  called  itself 
modestly  a  "little  Genoa;"  and  it  was  so  pretty,  lying  by  the 
sea,  with  its  narrowest  streets  climbing  up  a  hill  to  an  ancient 
fortress,  that  I  should  have  loved  to  linger,  but  Aunt  Kathryn 
was  for  pushing  on;  and,  of  course,  it  is  her  trip,  so  her  wishes 
must  be  obeyed  when  they  can't  be  directed  into  other  channels. 
We  stopped  only  long  enough  for  an  omelette,  and  passed  on  after 
a  mere  glimpse  of  close-huddled  houses  (with  three  heads  for 
every  window,  staring  at  the  motor)  and  a  cathedral  with  an  ex 
quisite  doorway.  Then  we  were  out  of  the  town,  spinning  on 
through  the  wild,  unreal-looking  country  towards  Spalato. 

"  WTiat  new  ground  for  honeymooners ! "  exclaimed  Sir  Ralph, 
enchanted  with  everything,  in  his  half -boyish,  half -cynical  way. 
"  I  shall  recommend  it  in  The  Riviera  Sun  for  a  wedding  trip  en 
automobile.  Should  n't  you  like  to  do  it,  Miss  Beechy  —  dawd 
ling,  not  scorching  ?  " 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  277 

"  I  think  when  I  get  married,"  Beechy  replied  judicially,  "  I 
shan't  want  to  go  anywhere.  I  shall  just  stay  somewhere  for  a 
change." 

"It 's  early  to  decide,"  remarked  Sir  Ralph. 

"  I  don't  know.  It 's  always  well  to  be  prepared,"  said  Beechy, 
with  the  enigmatical  look  she  sometimes  puts  on,  which  (in  spite 
of  her  ankle-short  dresses  and  knee-long  tails  of  hair)  makes  her 
appear  at  least  sixteen. 

Beyond  Sebenico  the  Dalmatian  landscape  frowned  upon  us, 
but  we  liked  its  savage  mood.  The  road,  winding  inland,  was 
walled  with  mountains  which  might  have  struck  a  chill  to  the 
heart  of  Childe  Roland  on  his  way  to  find  the  Dark  Tower.  On  a 
rocky  shoulder  here  and  there  crouched  a  sinister  little  hamlet, 
like  a  black  cat  huddling  into  the  neck  of  a  witch.  Sometimes, 
among  the  stony  pastures  where  discouraged  goats  browsed  dis 
contentedly,  we  would  spy  a  human  inhabitant  of  one  of  those 
savage  haunts  —  a  shepherd  in  a  costume  more  strange  than 
picturesque,  with  a  plait  of  hair  almost  as  long  as  Beechy's, 
hanging  down  his  back  —  a  sullen,  Mongolian-faced  being,  who 
stared  or  scowled  as  we  flew  by,  his  ragged  dog  too  startled  by 
the  rush  of  the  motor  even  to  bark,  frozen  into  an  attitude  of  an 
gry  amazement  at  his  master's  feet.  One  evidence  only  of  modern 
civilization  did  we  see  —  the  railway  from  Sebenico  to  Spalato, 
the  first  we  had  come  near  in  Dalmatia;  and  we  congratulated 
ourselves  that  we  were  travelling  by  automobile  instead.  No  tun 
nels  to  shut  out  some  wonderful  view,  just  as  our  eyes  had 
focussed  on  it,  no  black  smoke,  no  stuffy  air,  no  need  to  think  of 
time  tables ! 

When  at  last  we  sighted  the  Adriatic  again,  a  surprise  awaited 
us.  The  land  of  desolation  lay  behind;  beyond,  a  land  of  beauty 
and  full  summer.  We  ran  beside  an  azure  sea,  transparent  as 
gauze,  fringing  a  tropical  strand ;  and  so  came  into  the  little  town 
of  Trau,  which  might  have  been  under  a  spell  of  sleep  since  medi 
aeval  days.  Its  walls  and  gates,  its  ornate  houses,  its  fort  and  San- 
micheli  tower,  all  set  like  a  mosaic  of  jewels  in  a  ring  of  myrtles, 


278  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

oleanders,  and  laurels,  delighted  our  eyes;  and  the  farther  we 
went  on  the  way  to  Spalato,  keeping  always  by  the  glittering  sea, 
the  more  beautiful  grew  the  scene.  The  walls  along  our  road  were 
well-nigh  hidden  with  agaves  and  rosemary.  Cacti  leered  impu 
dently  at  us;  palms  and  pomegranates  made  the  breeze  on  our 
faces  whisper  of  the  south  and  the  east.  Not  a  place  we  passed 
that  I  would  not  have  loved  to  spend  a  month  in,  studying  in  the 
carved  stones  of  churches  and  ruined  castles  the  history  of  Vene 
tian  rule,  or  the  wild  romance  of  Turkish  raids. 

Spalato  we  reached  at  sunset,  as  the  little  waves  which  creamed 
against  the  pink  rocks  were  splashed  with  crimson ;  and  Spalato 
was  by  far  the  most  imposing  place  Dalmatia  had  shown  us  yet. 
As  in  Italy,  the  ancient  and  modern  towns  held  themselves 
apart  from  one  another,  as  if  there  could  be  no  sympathy  be 
tween  the  two,  though  the  new  houses  were  pushing  and  would 
have  encroached  now  and  then  if  they  could.  We  stayed  all  night ; 
and  by  getting  up  at  sunrise  Beechy  and  I,  with  Mr.  Barrymore 
and  Sir  Ralph,  had  time  for  a  glimpse  of  Diocletian's  palace, 
grand  in  ruinous  desolation. 

Still  we  went  on  beside  the  sea,  and  from  Spalato  to  Almissa  — 
sheltered  under  high  rocks  at  the  mouth  of  a  river,  was  a  splen 
did  run  leading  us  by  the  territory  of  an  ancient  peasant  repub 
lic —  Poljica;  one  of  those  odd  little  self-governing  communi 
ties,  like  San  Marino,  which  have  flourished  through  troubled 
centuries  under  the  very  noses  of  great  powers.  Poljica  had  had 
its  Jeanne  d'Arc,  who  performed  wondrous  feats  of  valour  in 
wars  against  the  Turks,  and  I  bought  a  charming  little  statuette 
of  her. 

At  Almissa  we  bade  good-bye  to  the  blue  water  for  a  while  to 
run  by  the  banks  of  the  Cetina,  a  big  and  beautiful  river;  for  the 
range  of  the  Bioko vo  Hills  had  got  between  us  and  the  sea ;  but 
we  threaded  our  way  out  to  it  again,  after  switchbacking  up  and 
down  an  undulating  road  close  to  the  frontier  of  Herzegovina; 
and  at  the  end  of  a  wonderful  day  descended  upon  a  harbour  in 
an  almost  land-locked  basin  of  water.  It  was  Gravosa,  the  port  of 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  279 

Ragusa,  still  hidden  by  an  intervening  tongue  of  land.  It  was  a 
gay  scene  by  the  quay,  where  native  coasting  ships  were  unload 
ing  their  queer  cargoes.  Dark-faced  porters  in  rags  carried  on 
their  shoulders  enormous  burdens;  men  in  loose  knickerbockers, 
embroidered  shirts,  and  funny  little  turbans  lounged  about,  and 
stared  at  us  as  if  they  were  every-day  people  and  we  extraordi 
nary.  And  the  setting  for  the  lively  picture  was  the  deeply-indent 
ed  bay,  surrounded  with  quaintly  pretty  houses  among  vine 
yards  and  olive  groves,  which  climbed  terrace  after  terrace  to  a 
mountainous  horse-shoe,  hemming  in  the  port. 

All  this  we  saw  in  the  moment  or  two  that  we  halted  by  the 
quay,  before  turning  up  the  road  to  Ragusa.  It  was  a  mile-long 
road,  and  like  a  pleasure  garden  all  the  way,  with  the  whiteness 
of  wild  lilies  flung  like  snow  drifts  against  dark  cedars,  and  trails 
of  marvellous  roses,  strangely  tinted  with  all  shades  of  red  and 
yellow  from  the  palest  to  the  deepest,  clambering  among  the 
branches  of  umbrella  pines.  There  were  villas,  too,  with  pergo 
las,  and  two  or  three  dignified  old  houses  of  curious  architecture, 
of  which  we  had  a  flashing  glimpse  through  doorways  in  enor 
mous  walls. 

We  bounded  up  the  saddle  of  a  hill,  then  down  again,  and  so 
came  to  a^charming  hotel,  white,  with  green  verandahs,  set  in  a 
park  that  was  half  a  garden.  We  were  to  spend  the  night  and  go 
on  next  day,  after  seeing  the  town ;  but  the  Chauff eulier  said  that 
we  should  not  see  it  to  the  same  advantage  by  morning  light  as 
in  this  poetic  flush  of  sunset.  So  after  greeting  Signore  Bari 
and  his  sister,  who  were  painting  in  the  park,  we  drove  on, 
through  a  crowded  place  where  music  played,  crossed  a  moat, 
and  were  swallowed  by  the  long  shadow  of  the  city  gate,  black 
with  a  twisted  draping  of  ancient  ivy. 

A  throng  of  loungers,  theatrically  picturesque,  fell  back  in  as 
tonishment  to  give  us  passage,  and  a  moment  later  we  were 
caught  in  a  double  row  of  fortifications  with  a  sharp  and  diffi 
cult  turn  through  a  second  gate.  It  was  almost  like  a  trap  for  a 
motor-car,  but  we  got  out,  and  sprang  at  the  same  instant  into 


280  MY   FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

the  main  street  of  a  town  that  might  have  been  built  to  please  the 
fancy  of  some  artist-tyrant. 

"  It 's  a  delicious  mixture  of  Carcassonne  and  Verona  set  down 
by  the  sea,  with  something  of  Venice  thrown  in,  is  n't  it  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Barrymore :  and  I  thought  that  part  of  the  description  fitted, 
though  I  had  to  be  told  about  splendid,  fortified  Carcassonne  with 
its  towering  walls  and  bastions,  before  I  fully  understood  the 
simile. 

"  Yes,  a  Verona  and  Venice  certainly,"  I  answered,  "  with  a 
sunny  coast  like  that  of  the  French  Riviera,  and  inhabited  by 
people  of  the  Far  East." 

I  think  one  might  search  the  world  over  in  vain  to  find  just 
such  another  fascinating  street  as  that  broad  street  of  Ragusa, 
with  its  exquisitely  proportioned  buildings  that  gave  one  a  sense 
of  gladness,  the  extraordinary  great  fountain,  the  miniature  pal 
ace  of  the  Doges,  the  noble  churches  and  the  colourful  shops 
brilliant  with  strange,  embroidered  costumes  exposed  for  sale, 
Eastern  jewelry,  and  quaint,  ferocious-looking  weapons.  And 
then,  the  queer  signs  over  the  shops,  how  they  added  to  the  be 
wildering  effect  of  unreality !  Many  of  the  letters  were  more  like 
hooks  and  eyes,  buckles  and  bent  pins,  than  respectable  members 
of  an  alphabet,  even  a  foreign  one.  And  the  people  who  sold,  and 
the  people  who  bought,  were  more  wonderful  than  the  shops 
themselves. 

There  were  a  few  ordinary  Europeans,  though  it  was  past  the 
season  now;  and  plenty  of  handsome  young  Austrian  officers  in 
striking  uniforms,  pale  blue  and  bright  green ;  but  the  crowd  was 
an  embroidered,  sequined,  crimson  and  silver,  gold  and  azure 
crowd,  with  here  and  there  a  sheepskin  coat,  the  brown  habit  of  a 
monk,  and  the  black  veil  of  a  nun. 

Through  half -open  doorways  we  peeped  into  courtyards  where 
fountains  flashed  a  diamond  spray,  all  pink  with  sunset,  between 
arcaded  columns.  We  saw  the  cathedral  planted  on  the  site  of  the 
chapel  where  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  worshipped ;  then,  wheeling 
at  the  end  of  the  street,  we  returned  as  we  had  come  while  the 


A  CHAPTER  BEYOND  THE  MOTOR  ZONE  281 

rose-pink  air  was  full  of  chiming  church  bells  and  cries  of  gulls, 
whose  circling  wings  were  stained  with  sunset  colour. 

Altogether  this  day  had  been  one  of  the  best  days  of  my  life.  So 
good  a  day,  that  it  had  made  me  sad ;  for  I  thought  as  I  leaned  on 
the  rail  of  my  balcony  after  dinner,  there  could  not  be  many  days 
so  radiant  in  my  life  to  come.  Many  thoughts  came  to  me  there, 
in  the  scented  darkness,  and  they  were  all  tinged  with  'a  vague 
melancholy. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  the  high  dome  of  the  sky  was  crusted 
with  stars,  that  flashed  like  an  intricate  embroidery  of  diamonds 
on  velvet.  From  the  garden  the  scent  of  lilies  came  up  with  the 
warm  breeze,  so  poignant-sweet  that  it  struck  at  my  heart,  and 
made  it  beat,  beat  with  a  strange  tremor  in  the  beating  that  was 
like  vague  apprehension,  and  a  kind  of  joy  as  strange  and  as 
inexplicable. 

Far  away  in  the  place  some  one  was  singing  a  wild,  barbaric 
air,  with  a  wonderful  voice  that  had  in  its  timbre  the  same  quality 
the  lilies  had  in  their  fragrance.  For  some  reason  that  I  did  n't 
understand,  my  whole  spirit  was  in  a  turmoil,  yet  nothing  had 
happened.  What  was  the  matter  ?  What  did  it  mean  ?  I  could  n't 
tell.  But  I  wanted  to  be  happy.  I  wanted  something  from  life  that 
it  had  never  given,  never  would  give,  perhaps.  There  was  a  voice 
down  below  in  the  garden  —  Mr.  Barrymore  talking  to  Sir 
Ralph.  I  listened  for  an  instant,  every  nerve  tingling  as  if  it  were 
a  telegraph  wire  over  which  a  question  had  been  sent,  and  an 
answer  was  coming.  The  voice  died  away.  Suddenly  my  eyes  were 
full  of  tears;  and  surprised  and  frightened,  I  turned  quickly  to  go 
in  through  my  open  window,  but  something  caught  my  dress  and 
drew  me  back. 

"  Maida ! "  said  another  voice,  which  I  knew  almost  as  well  as 
that  other  I  had  heard  —  and  lost. 

Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  had  come  out  of  a  window  onto  a  bal 
cony  next  mine,  and  leaning  over  the  railing  had  snatched  at  a 
fold  of  my  gown. 

"  Let  me  go,  please,"  I  said.  "  And  that  name  is  not  for  you." 


282-  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

"Don't  say  that,"  he  whispered,  holding  me  fast,  so  that  I 
could  not  move.  "  It  must  be  for  me.  You  must  be  for  me.  You 
shall.  I  can't  live  without  you." 

His  words  jarred  so  upon  my  mood  that  I  could  have  struck 
him. 

"  If  you  don't  let  me  go,  I  '11  cry  out,"  I  said,  in  a  tone  as  low  as 
his,  but  quivering  with  anger.  "  I  would  be  nothing  to  you  if  you 
were  the  last  man  in  the  world." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  be  the  last  man  in  your  world.  Then  —  we 
shall  see,"  he  answered;  and  dropped  my  dress. 

In  another  instant,  I  was  in  my  room  and  had  fastened  the 
shutters.  But  the  words  rang  in  my  ears,  like  a  bell  that  has 
tolled  too  loud. 


XXIII 
A  CHAPTER  OF  KIDNAPPING 

BEECHY  was  ill  next  morning ;  nothing  serious ;  but  the 
Prince,  it  seemed,  had  brought  her  in  the  evening  a  box 
of  some  rich  Turkish  confection;  and  though  she 
does  n't  care  for  the  man,  she  could  n't  resist  the 
sweet  stuff.  So  she  had  eaten,  only  a  little,  she  said;  but  the  box 
contradicted  her,  and  the  poor  child  kept  her  bed. 

Aunt  Kathryn  and  I  were  with  her  until  eleven  o'clock.  Then 
she  was  sleepy,  and  told  us  to  go  away.  So  we  went,  and  took  a 
drive  to  the  pretty  harbour  of  Gravosa,  with  Mr.  Barrymore  and 
Sir  Ralph  in  the  motor,  unaccompanied  by  the  Prince,  whose  ear 
was  said  to  be  somehow  disabled. 

We  expected,  if  Beechy  were  well,  to  get  on  next  day;  but  the 
Chauffeulier  was  troubled  about  the  road  between  Ragusa  and 
Cattaro  —  and  no  proper  "  route-book  "  existing  for  that  part  of 
the  world,  unexplored  by  motors,  he  could  find  out  surprisingly 
little  from  any  one.  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  was  as  ignorant  as 
others,  or  appeared  to  be,  although  this  was  his  own  land;  and  so 
it  seemed  doubtful  what  would  be  our  next  adventure. 

The  spin  was  a  very  short  one,  for  the  day  was  hot,  and  we 
did  n't  care  to  leave  Beechy  long  alone.  But  when  we  came  back 
she  was  asleep  still ;  and  I  was  getting  rid  of  my  holland  motor- 
coat  in  my  own  room  when  Aunt  Kathryn  tapped  at  the  door. 
"  Don't  take  off  your  things,"  she  said,  "  but  come  out  again  — 
that 's  a  dear  —  for  a  drive  to  Gravosa." 

"  We  've  just  come  back  from  Gravosa,"  I  answered,  sur 
prised. 

283 


284  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

"  Yes,  but  we  did  n't  see  the  most  interesting  thing  there.  You 
know  the  yacht  standing  out  at  a  little  distance  in  the  harbour, 
that  I  said  looked  like  the  Corraminis'  ?  Well,  it  is  the  Corra- 
minis'.  The  Prince  wants  us  to  drive  with  him  —  not  on  the  auto 
mobile,  for  it  is  n't  mended  yet,  but  in  a  cab,  and  go  on  board 
the  yacht  for  lunch  with  the  County  and  Contessa." 

"  Oh,  you  'd  better  go  without  me,"  I  said. 

Aunt  Kathryn  pouted  like  a  child.  "I  can't,"  she  objected. 
"  The  Prince  says  I  can't,  for  it  would  be  misunderstood  here  if  a 
lady  drove  out  alone  with  a  gentleman.  Do  come." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to,  then,"  I  answered  ungraciously, 
for  I  hated  going.  At  the  last  minute  little  Airole  darted  after  me, 
and  to  save  the  trouble  of  going  back  I  caught  him  up  in  my  arms. 
I  was  rewarded  for  the  sacrifice  I  had  made  by  being  let  alone 
during  the  drive.  The  Prince  was  all  devotion  to  Aunt  Kathryn, 
and  scarcely  spoke  a  word  to  me. 

At  the  harbour  there  was  a  little  boat  sent  out  from  the  Corra 
minis'  "  Arethusa  "  to  fetch  us,  so  it  was  evident  that  we  had  been 
expected  and  this  was  not  an  impromptu  idea  of  the  Prince's. 

On  board  the  yacht,  which  we  had  visited  once  or  twice  in 
Venice,  Count  Corramini  met  us,  his  scarred  face  smiling  a 
welcome. 

"  I  am  more  than  sorry  that  my  wife  is  suddenly  indisposed," 
he  said,  in  his  careful  English.  "  She  is  subject  to  terrible  head 
aches,  but  she  sends  messages  and  begs  that  Countess  Dalmar 
will  take  the  head  of  the  table  in  her  absence." 

We  lunched  almost  at  once,  and  as  it  was  a  simple  meal, 
finished  soon.  Coffee  was  served  on  deck  under  the  awning,  and 
its  shadow  was  so  cool,  the  air  so  fresh  on  the  water,  and  the  har 
bour  so  lovely  that  I  was  growing  contented,  when  suddenly  I 
grew  conscious  of  a  throb,  throb  of  the  "  Arethusa's  "  heart. 

"  Why,  we  're  moving ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  A  short  excursion  the  Prince  and  I  have  arranged  for  a  little 
surprise,"  explained  Count  Corramini.  "We  hoped  it  might 
amuse  you.  You  do  not  object,  Countess  ?  " 


A  CHAPTER  OF  KIDNAPPING  285 

"  I  think  it  will  be  lovely,  this  hot  afternoon,"  said  Aunt  Kath- 
ryn,  who  was  radiant  with  childish  pleasure  in  the  exclusive  at 
tentions  of  the  two  men. 

"But  poor  little  Beechy!"  I  protested. 

"  Probably  she  will  sleep  till  late,  as  she  could  n't  lunch,"  said 
Aunt  Kathryn  comfortably.  "  And  if  she  wakes,  the  '  other  Bea 
trice  '  as  she  calls  Signorina  Bari,  will  sit  with  her.  She  offered 
to,  you  know." 

I  raised  no  further  objection  to  the  plan,  as  evidently  Aunt 
Kathryn  was  enjoying  herself.  But  when  we  had  steamed  out  of 
the  Bay  of  Ombla,^far  away  from  Ragusa's  towering  fortifica 
tions,  and  on  for  more  than  an  hour,  I  ventured  to  suggest  to 
Count  Corramini  that  it  was  time  to  turn  back.  "  We  shan't  get 
to  the  hotel  till  after  three,  as  it  is,"  I  said,  glancing  at  my  watch. 

"  Let  us  consult  the  Countess,"  he  replied.  "  Here  she  comes 
now." 

Aunt  Kathryn  and  the  Prince  had  left  us  twenty  minutes  be 
fore,  to  stroll  up  and  down  the  deck,  and  had  been  leaning  over 
the  rail  for  some  time,  talking  in  low  voices,  but  with  great  ear 
nestness.  As  the  Count  answered  me,  they  had  moved  and  were 
coming  slowly  in  our  direction,  Aunt  Kathryn  looking  excited,  as 
if  the  Prince  had  been  saying  something  strange. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  go  back  to  Beechy  ?  "  I  asked,  as 
she  came  nearer. 

She  sat  down  in  the  deck  chair  without  replying  for  a  moment, 
and  then  she  said,  in  an  odd,  quavering  tone,  "  Maida,  I  've  just 
heard  a  thing  from  the  Prince,  that  I  '11  have  to  talk  to  you 
about.  County,  can  I  take  her  into  the  sallong  ?  " 

The  Count  jumped  up.  "  It  is  for  Dalmar-Kalm  and  me  to  go, 
if  you  wish  to  speak  with  Mees  Destrey  alone,"  he  exclaimed. 
And  laying  his  hand  on  the  Prince's  shoulder,  the  two  men 
walked  away  together. 

My  only  thought  was  that  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  must  have 
told  Aunt  Kathryn  of  my  refusal  and  asked  her  to  "  use  her  in 
fluence."  But  her  first  words  showed  me  that  I  was  mistaken. 


286  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

"  I  'm  very  angry  with  the  Prince,  but  I  can't  help  thinking 
what  he  's  done  is  romantic.  He  and  the  County  have  kidnapped 
us." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  you  need  n't  look  so  horrified.  They  're  only  taking  us  to 
Cattaro  by  yacht  instead  of  our  going  by  automobile,  that 's  all." 

"  All  ?  "  I  echoed.  "  It 's  the  most  impudent  thing  I  ever  heard 
of.  Did  n't  you  tell  him  that  you  would  n't  go,  that  you  —  ' 

"  Well,  I  'd  like  to  know  what  good  my  saying  '  Would  n't ' 
could  do  ?  I  can't  stop  the  yacht." 

"  It 's  Count  Corramini's  yacht,  not  the  Prince's,"  I  said, 
"  and  whatever  else  they  may  be,  they  're  gentlemen,  at  least  by 
birth.  They  can't  run  off  with  us  like  this  against  our  wills." 

Aunt  Kathryn  actually  chuckled.  "Well,  they  have,  anyhow," 
she  retorted.  "  And  the  Prince  says,  if  only  we  knew  what  the  road 
to  Cattaro  was  like,  I  'd  thank  instead  of  scolding  him." 

"  Nonsense ! "  I  exclaimed.  "  We  must  go  back.  What 's  to  be 
come  of  Beechy  left  alone  in  Ragusa  ill,  with  nobody  but  Mr. 
Barrymore  and  Sir  Ralph  to  look  after  her  ?  It 's  monstrous ! " 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Aunt  Kathryn,  more  meekly.  "  But  Sig- 
norina  Bari  's  there.  It  is  n't  so  dreadful,  Maida.  Beechy  is  n't 
very  sick.  She  '11  be  well  to-morrow,  and  when  they  find  we  're 
gone,  which  they  can't  till  late  this  afternoon,  they  won't  waste 
time  motoring  down ;  they  '11  take  a  ship  which  leaves  Ragusa  in 
the  morning  for  Cattaro.  The  Prince  says  they  're  sure  to.  We  '11 
all  meet  by  to-morrow  noon,  and  meanwhile  I  guess  there  's  noth 
ing  for  us  to  do  but  make  the  best  of  the  joke  they  've  played  on 
us.  Anyway,  it 's  an  exciting  adventure,  and  you  like  ad  — ' 

"You  call  it  a  joke!"  I  cried.  "I  call  it  something  very  differ 
ent.  Let  me  speak  to  the  Prince." 

I  sprang  up,  forgetting  poor  Airole  asleep  on  my  lap,  but  Aunt 
Kathryn  scrambled  out  of  her  low  chair  also,  and  snatched  my 
dress.  "No,  I  'm  not  going  to  have  you  insult  him,"  she  ex 
claimed.  "  You  shan't  talk  to  him  without  me.  He  's  my  friend, 
not  yours,  and  if  I  choose  to  consider  this  wild  trick  he  's  playing 


A  CHAPTER  OF  KIDNAPPING  287 

more  a  —  a  compliment  than  anything  else,  why,  it  won't  hurt 
you.  As  for  Beechy,  she  's  my  child,  not  yours." 

This  silenced  me  for  the  moment,  but  only  until  the  men 
appeared.  "  Are  we  forgiven  ?  "  asked  the  Prince. 

"  Maida  's  very  angry,  and  so  am  I,  of  course,"  replied  Aunt 
Kathryn,  bridling,  and  showing  both  dimples. 

" Dear  ladies,"  pleaded  the  Count,  "I  would  n't  have  con 
sented  to  help  this  mad  friend  of  mine,  if  he  had  n't  assured  me 
that  you  were  too  much  under  the  influence  of  your  rather  reck 
less  chauffeur,  who  would  probably  break  your  bones  and  his 
companion's  car,  in  his  obstinate  determination  to  go  down  to 
Cattaro  by  motor." 

"Why,  lately  the  Prince  has  been  encouraging  it!"  I  inter 
rupted. 

"  Ah,  you  have  misunderstood  him.  A  wilful  fool  must  have  his 
way;  that  was  what  he  thought  of  your  gentleman  chauffeur;  no 
doubt.  This  will  give  the  self-willed  young  man  an  excuse  to  take 
the  boat  to  Cattaro  to-morrow.  You  will  have  a  run  on  Dalmar- 
Kalm's  motor  (which  he  has  put  on  board  on  purpose)  this  after 
noon  from  Cattaro  to  Schloss  Hrvoya.  It  will  not  be  serious  for 
Miss  Beechy.  You  can  wire,  and  get  her  answer  that  Signorina 
Bari  is  playing  nurse  and  chaperon  very  nicely." 

"You  must  understand,  Miss  Destrey,  as  I  have  made  the 
Countess  understand  already,"  put  in  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm, 
"  that  I  only  chose  this  course  because  I  knew  it  would  be  useless 
trying  to  dissuade  Mr.  Chauffeur  Barrymore  from  attempting 
the  trip  by  road;  but  this  will  effectually  stop  him." 

"You  are  very,  very  naughty,  Prince,"  chattered  Aunt  Kath 
ryn  ;  and  I  was  so  angry  with  her  for  her  frivolity  and  vanity  that 
I  should  hardly  have  dared  to  speak,  even  if  words  had  n't  failed 
me. 

"  At  least,  we  have  thought  of  your  comfort,"  said  Count  Cor- 
ramini.  "  There  are  two  cabins  ready  for  your  occupation,  with 
everything  you  will  need  for  the  toilet,  so  that  you  can  sleep  in 
peace  after  your  trip  to  Hrvoya." 


290  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

the  rock.  I  knew  that  they  must  mean  the  twistings  of  a  road,  up 
and  up  to  the  junction  of  mountain  and  sky,  but  the  wall  of  grey 
rock  looked  so  sheer,  so  nearly  perpendicular,  that  it  was  impos 
sible  to  imagine  horses,  or  even  automobiles  mounting  there. 

In  my  interest  and  wonder  as  to  whether  we  had  arrived  at 
Cattaro  already  I  had  forgotten  my  injuries  for  the  moment,  un 
til  I  was  reminded  of  them  by  Aunt  Kathryn's  voice. 

"It's  Cattaro,"  she  called  through  the  door.  "Let  me  in, 
please.  I  've  something  to  say." 

I  slipped  back  the  bolt  and  she  came  in  hurriedly,  as  if  she  were 
afraid  of  being  kept  out  after  all. 

"See  here,  Maida,"  she  said,  "to  save  time  the  Prince  is  hav 
ing  his  motor  put  on  shore  the  minute  we  get  in  to  the  quay,  and 
he  '11  drive  us  up  to  Schloss  Hrvoya  this  afternoon.  It 's  only  four 
o'clock,  and  he  says,  though  it 's  away  up  in  the  mountains  and 
we  '11  be  two  hours  getting  there,  we  shall  run  down  in  half  the 
time,  so  we  shall  be  back  soon  after  seven  and  can  dine  on  board. 
It 's  quite  appropriate  that  I  should  be  with  the  Prince,  whose  an 
cestral  home  it  was,  when  I  look  on  Hrvoya  first.  He  's  fully  per 
suaded  me  of  that.  I  think  the  whole  thing  's  most  dramatic,  and 
I  do  hope  you  won't  spoil  it  by  being  disagreeable  any  longer." 

"  I  think  you  're  the  —  the  unwisest  woman  I  ever  saw ! "  I 
could  n't  help  exclaiming. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  're  very  rude.  I  do  believe  you  're  jealous  of 
me  with  the  Prince.  That  's  his  idea,  anyway,  though  he  'd  be 
vexed  if  he  thought  I  'd  told  you,  and  I  would  n't  if  you  had  n't 
aggravated  me.  Oh  dear,  you  do  make  me  so  nervous  and  miser 
able  !  Will  you  come  to  Schloss  Hrvoya  or  will  you  not  ?  " 

I  thought  very  quickly  for  a  few  seconds  before  answering. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  go  than  to  stay  on  "Arethusa" 
without  Aunt  Kathryn,  especially  as  I  had  now  made  Count  Cor- 
ramini  my  enemy.  Mr.  Barrymore  and  Sir  Ralph  and  Beechy 
could  n't  arrive  at  Cattaro  by  ship  till  to-morrow,  even  if  they 
found  out  what  had  become  of  us,  and  followed  at  the  earliest 
opportunity  without  waiting  to  hear.  No,  there  was  nothing  to 


A   CHAPTER   OF   KIDNAPPING  291 

keep  me  on  the  yacht,  or  in  the  town  of  Cattaro,  and  hateful  as 
the  whole  expedition  was,  it  would  be  better  to  cling  to  Aunt 
Kathryn  than  be  anywhere  else  alone  in  a  strange  place,  among 
people  whose  language  I  neither  spoke  nor  understood. 

"Yes,  I  will  come/'  I  said. 

"  Arethusa  "  touched  the  quay  as  I  spoke,  and  there  was  a  great 
bustle  on  deck,  no  doubt  landing  the  Prince's  motor,  which  had 
stood  concealed  on  the  forward  deck  under  an  enormous  tar 
paulin. 

Aunt  Kathryn,  triumphant,  hurried  off  to  get  ready,  and  I  be 
gan  slowly  to  follow  her  example. 


XXIV 
A  CHAPTER  ON  PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES 

1J  "W"  "T'HEN  I  had  put  on  my  hat  and  coat,  which  I  Jd  taken 
%  /%  /  off  in  the  cabin,  I  went  on  deck  with  Airole  tucked 

^r  ^r  under  my  arm,  expecting  to  find  Aunt  Kathryn,  as 
I  had  not  made  haste.  She  was  not  there,  but  on 
shore  close  to  the  quay  stood  the  automobile,  which  had  been 
put  off  in  a  kind  of  sling;  and  on  the  front  seat  was  the  familiar, 
plump  figure  in  its  long,  light  brown  coat,  and  the  mushroom- 
like  mask  with  the  talc  window. 

I  had  not  brought  my  mask,  but  evidently  Aunt  Kathryn  must 
have  had  hers  stuffed  into  one  of  the  big  pockets  of  her  coat,  as 
she  often  did.  The  Prince  stood  talking  to  her,  and  seeing  that  all 
was  ready  I  crossed  the  gang-plank  and  walked  quickly  to  the 
car. 

Aunt  Kathryn  neither  spoke  to  me  nor  turned  her  head,  which 
scarcely  surprised  me,  considering  the  bad  terms  we  were  upon, 
for  the  first  time  in  all  the  months  of  our  acquaintance. 

The  Prince  "  hoped  that  I  would  n't  mind  sitting  in  the  ton- 
neau,"  and  explained  a  pile  of  rugs  on  the  seat  opposite  mine  by 
saying  that  it  would  grow  chilly  as  we  ascended  into  the  moun 
tains,  and  he  did  not  wish  his  passengers  to  suffer. 

"  Where  's  Joseph  ?  "  I  asked,  addressing  him  for  the  first  time 
since  taking  him  to  task  on  deck. 

"  I  left  him  in  Ragusa,"  replied  the  Prince.  "  He  will  not  be 
needed."  With  this,  the  tonneau  door  was  shut,  the  car  started, 
and  we  bounded  away.  A  few  men  and  women,  in  very  interest 
ing,  Eastern  costumes,  quite  different  from  anything  we  had  seen 

292 


PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  293 

yet,  watched  our  progress  in  silence  and  with  imperturbable 
faces,  dark  and  proud. 

Angry  as  I  still  was  with  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  for  the  trick  he 
had  so  impudently  played  upon  us,  and  the  part  forced  upon  me 
for  Aunt  Kathryn's  sake,  I  could  not  be  blind  to  the  beauty  of 
this  strange  world,  or  suppress  all  joy  in  it. 

Cattaro  seemed  to  lie  plastered  against  a  tremendous  wall  of 
sheer  rock  rising  behind  the  ringed  town  and  its  fortress ;  and  I 
saw,  soon  after  starting,  that  we  must  be  bound  for  the  mountain 
with  the  silken  skein  of  road,  which  I  had  gazed  at  in  wonder 
from  my  porthole.  We  had  not  long  left  Cattaro,  when  our  way 
began  to  mount  in  long  zigzags,  doubling  back  again  and  again 
upon  itself.  Presently  we  could  look  down  upon  the  town,  prone 
at  the  foot  of  its  fortified  hill  on  the  very  edge  of  the  sea,  which  as 
we  climbed,  assumed  the  shape  and  colour  of  a  great  shimmering 
blue  silk  sleeve. 

Mountains  towered  all  around  us,  mountains  in  every  direc 
tion  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  many  crowned  by  low,  green 
forts,  connected  with  the  lower  world  by  the  lacings  of  thread 
like  roads. 

Still  we  mounted,  the  car  going  well  and  the  Prince  driving  in 
silence.  Though  the  gradient  was  steep  —  sometimes  so  steep  as 
to  be  terrible  for  horses  —  we  seemed  to  travel  so  fast  that  it  was 
surprising  to  find  ourselves  apparently  no  nearer  the  mountain- 
tops  than  when  we  started.  Though  we  gazed  down  so  far  that 
all  things  on  the  sea  level  had  shrunk  into  nothingness,  and  the 
big  warship  we  had  seen  in  coming  was  no  larger  than  a  beetle, 
we  gazed  still  farther  up  to  the  line  where  sky  and  mountain 
met.  And  always,  there  were  the  grey-white,  zigzag  lines  scored 
on  the  face  of  the  sheer  rock. 

I  longed  for  some  one  to  talk  with,  some  one  sympathetic  to 
exclaim  to ;  in  fact,  I  wished  I  were  driving  up  this  magnificent, 
this  appalling  road,  beside  the  Chauffeulier  instead  of  in  Prince 
Dalmar-Kalm's  tonneau.  I  wondered  that  Aunt  Kathryn  —  usu 
ally  so  impulsive  —  could  restrain  herself  here,  and  expected  at 


XXIV 
A  CHAPTER  ON  PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES 

WHEN  I  had  put  on  my  hat  and  coat,  which  I  'd  taken 
off  in  the  cabin,  I  went  on  deck  with  Airole  tucked 
under  my  arm,  expecting  to  find  Aunt  Kathryn,  as 
I  had  not  made  haste.  She  was  not  there,  but  on 
shore  close  to  the  quay  stood  the  automobile,  which  had  been 
put  off  in  a  kind  of  sling;  and  on  the  front  seat  was  the  familiar, 
plump  figure  in  its  long,  light  brown  coat,  and  the  mushroom- 
like  mask  with  the  talc  window. 

I  had  not  brought  niy  mask,  but  evidently  Aunt  Kathryn  must 
have  had  hers  stuffed  into  one  of  the  big  pockets  of  her  coat,  as 
she  often  did.  The  Prince  stood  talking  to  her,  and  seeing  that  all 
was  ready  I  crossed  the  gang-plank  and  walked  quickly  to  the 
car. 

Aunt  Kathryn  neither  spoke  to  me  nor  turned  her  head,  which 
scarcely  surprised  me,  considering  the  bad  terms  we  were  upon, 
for  the  first  time  in  all  the  months  of  our  acquaintance. 

The  Prince  "  hoped  that  I  would  n't  mind  sitting  in  the  ton- 
neau,"  and  explained  a  pile  of  rugs  on  the  seat  opposite  mine  by 
saying  that  it  would  grow  chilly  as  we  ascended  into  the  moun 
tains,  and  he  did  not  wish  his  passengers  to  suffer. 

"  Where  's  Joseph  ?  "  I  asked,  addressing  him  for  the  first  time 
since  taking  him  to  task  on  deck. 

"  I  left  him  in  Ragusa,"  replied  the  Prince.  "  He  will  not  be 
needed."  With  this,  the  tonneau  door  was  shut,  the  car  started, 
and  we  bounded  away.  A  few  men  and  women,  in  very  interest 
ing,  Eastern  costumes,  quite  different  from  anything  we  had  seen 

29ft 


PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  293 

yet,  watched  our  progress  in  silence  and  with  imperturbable 
faces,  dark  and  proud. 

Angry  as  I  still  was  with  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  for  the  trick  he 
had  so  impudently  played  upon  us,  and  the  part  forced  upon  me 
for  Aunt  Kathryn's  sake,  I  could  not  be  blind  to  the  beauty  of 
this  strange  world,  or  suppress  all  joy  in  it. 

Cattaro  seemed  to  lie  plastered  against  a  tremendous  wall  of 
sheer  rock  rising  behind  the  ringed  town  and  its  fortress;  and  I 
saw,  soon  after  starting,  that  we  must  be  bound  for  the  mountain 
with  the  silken  skein  of  road,  which  I  had  gazed  at  in  wonder 
from  my  porthole.  We  had  not  long  left  Cattaro,  when  our  way 
began  to  mount  in  long  zigzags,  doubling  back  again  and  again 
upon  itself.  Presently  we  could  look  down  upon  the  town,  prone 
at  the  foot  of  its  fortified  hill  on  the  very  edge  of  the  sea,  which  as 
we  climbed,  assumed  the  shape  and  colour  of  a  great  shimmering 
blue  silk  sleeve. 

Mountains  towered  all  around  us,  mountains  in  every  direc 
tion  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  many  crowned  by  low,  green 
forts,  connected  with  the  lower  world  by  the  lacings  of  thread 
like  roads. 

Still  we  mounted,  the  car  going  well  and  the  Prince  driving  in 
silence.  Though  the  gradient  was  steep  —  sometimes  so  steep  as 
to  be  terrible  for  horses  —  we  seemed  to  travel  so  fast  that  it  was 
surprising  to  find  ourselves  apparently  no  nearer  the  mountain- 
tops  than  when  we  started.  Though  we  gazed  down  so  far  that 
all  things  on  the  sea  level  had  shrunk  into  nothingness,  and  the 
big  warship  we  had  seen  in  coming  was  no  larger  than  a  beetle, 
we  gazed  still  farther  up  to  the  line  where  sky  and  mountain 
met.  And  always,  there  were  the  grey-white,  zigzag  lines  scored 
on  the  face  of  the  sheer  rock. 

I  longed  for  some  one  to  talk  with,  some  one  sympathetic  to 
exclaim  to;  in  fact,  I  wished  I  were  driving  up  this  magnificent, 
this  appalling  road,  beside  the  Chauffeulier  instead  of  in  Prince 
Dalmar-Kalm's  tonneau.  I  wondered  that  Aunt  Kathryn  —  usu 
ally  so  impulsive  —  could  restrain  herself  here,  and  expected  at 


294  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

any  moment  to  have  her  turn  to  me,  our  differences  forgotten. 
But  no,  she  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  and  I  realized  how  angry 
she  must  be  with  me,  to  visit  her  vexation  upon  herself,  and  the 
Prince  also. 

I  had  thought  the  Col  di  Tenda  wonderful,  and  the  way  down 
to  Bellagio  over  the  mountains  still  more  thrilling ;  but  here,  they 
were  dwarfed  into  utter  insignificance.  I  could  have  imagined 
nothing  like  this  feat  of  engineering,  nothing  so  wild,  so  majestic 
as  the  ever-changing  views  from  these  incredible  heights. 

My  respect  for  Schloss  Hrvoya  and  its  environment  increased 
with  every  ascending  mile ;  but  the  distance  was  proving  itself  so 
great  that  I  did  not  see  how  it  would  be  possible  for  the  Prince  to 
keep  his  promise,  and  get  us  back  to  Cattaro  before  eight.  And 
we  had  left  summer  warmth  as  far  behind  as  the  level  which  it 
enriched  with  tropical  flowers.  The  Prince  suggested  to  Aunt 
Kathryn  that  she  should  wrap  round  her  a  shawl-like  rug,  and 
though  I  hated  to  follow  his  advice  or  take  any  favours  from  him, 
I  decided  that  it  would  be  foolish  to  make  myself  a  martyr.  So  I, 
too,  swaddled  myself  in  woolly  folds,  and  was  thankful. 

Now  the  windings  of  the  Bocche  di  Cattaro  revealed  them 
selves  completely.  The  bay  was  no  longer  a  silk  sleeve ;  but  a  vast 
star,  seemingly  cut  out  of  a  lapis  lazuli,was  set  mosaic-like  in  the 
midst  of  green  and  blue-grey  mountains  that  soared  up  from  it  — 
up,  up,  in  shapes  strange  as  a  goblin's  dream.  Then,  the  azure 
star  vanished,  and  rocky  heights  shut  away  the  view  of  the  dis 
tant  sea.  Vegetation  grew  sparse.  At  last  we  had  reached  the  des 
olate  and  stony  top  of  the  mountain-range  which  a  little  while 
ago  had  touched  the  sky.  Clouds  like  huge  white  swans  swam  in 
the  blue  air  below  us,  where  we  could  look  down  from  some  sheer 
precipice.  But  where  was  Schloss  Hrvoya?  And  would  Aunt 
Kathryn  never  speak  to  me  ? 

Almost  as  if  he  read  my  thoughts,  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  turned 
his  head,  checking  the  speed  of  the  motor.  "  Don't  be  discour 
aged,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "We  shall  be  going  down  now,  for  a 
time,  instead  of  up;  and  shortly  we  shall  be  at  our  journey's  end." 


PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  295 

"  But  soon  it  will  be  twilight,"  I  answered.  "  Do  you  know,  it  is 
after  six,  and  you  said  we  would  be  back  in  Cattaro  before  eight. 
That 's  impossible  now ;  and  I  'm  afraid  that  there  won't  be  much 
daylight  for  Aunt  Kathryn  to  have  a  first  look  at  her  castle." 

"  It  will  be  more  imposing  by  twilight,"  replied  the  Prince;  and 
though  my  words  had  been  a  bid  for  notice  from  Aunt  Kathryn, 
she  made  no  sign  of  having  heard. 

Once  more  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  turned  his  attention  to  driv 
ing,  and,  as  he  had  prophesied,  we  began  to  plunge  down  heights 
almost  as  tremendous  as  those  we  had  climbed.  The  road,  though 
splendidly  engineered,  was  covered  with  loose,  sharp  stones ;  and 
the  surging  mountain-tops  on  every  side  were  like  the  tossing 
waves  of  a  desolate  sea,  turned  to  stone  in  some  fierce  spasm  of 
nature.  Then,  in  the  midst  of  this  petrified  ocean,  we  flashed 
through  a  tiny  village,  and  my  hopes  of  reaching  Schloss  Hrvoya 
before  nightfall  brightened. 

From  the  little  group  of  low,  stone  buildings,  men  who  must 
have  sprung  from  a  race  of  giants,  rushed  out  in  answer  to  the 
voice  of  our  motor.  I  had  never  seen  such  wonderful  men,  un 
less,  perhaps,  Mr.  Barrymore  might  be  like  them,  if  dressed  as 
they  were.  Not  one  of  the  splendid  band  was  under  six  feet  in 
height,  and  many  were  much  taller.  On  their  handsome,  close- 
cropped  heads  they  wore  gold-braided  turbans  over  one  ear. 
Their  long  coats,  falling  to  the  knee,  were  of  green,  or  red,  or 
white,  open  to  show  waistcoats  crusted  with  gold  embroidery. 
Round  their  slim  waists  were  wound  voluminous  sashes  stuck 
full  of  sheathed  knives  and  huge  pistols.  Some  had  richly  orna 
mented  leather  boots  reaching  half  way  up  their  long,  straight 
legs,  while  others  wore  white  leggings,  with  knitted  stockings 
pulled  up  over  them. 

In  a  moment  these  gorgeous  giants  and  their  mean  village  were 
gone  for  us ;  but  our  road  took  us  past  persons  walking  towards 
the  town;  men,  young  and  old,  tall,  beautiful  boys,  and  white- 
clad  women  driving  sheep,  who  knitted  their  husbands'  stockings 
as  they  walked. 


296  MY  FRIEND   THE   CHAUFFEUR 

Here  and  there  in  a  deep  pit  among  the  tumbled  grey  rocks 
would  be  a  little  vivid  green  dell,  with  a  fairy  ring  of  cultivated 
vegetation.  This  would  be  guarded,  perhaps,  by  a  hut  of  stone,  al 
most  savage  in  the  crudeness  of  its  construction.  It  was  as  if  the 
proud  people  of  this  remote,  mountain  world,  wishing  to  owe 
their  all  to  their  own  country,  nothing  to  outsiders,  had  preferred 
to  make  their  houses  with  their  own  hands  out  of  their  own  rocks, 
hewing  the  walls  and  roofing  them  with  thatch  from  grass  grown 
in  their  own  pastures. 

Impressed,  almost  terrified  by  the  loneliness  of  this  desolate 
land  of  giants,  lit  fiercely  now  by  the  lurid  glow  of  sunset,  I 
searched  the  distance  for  some  towering  hill  crowned  by  a  castle 
which  might  be  Hrvoya.  But  there  were  no  castles,  even  ruined 
castles,  in  this  region  of  high  rocks  and  lonely  huts,  and  the  red 
horizon  was  hemmed  coldly  in  by  a  range  of  ghostly,  snow-clad 
mountains. 

"What  mountains  are  those,  far  away?"  I  could  not  resist 
asking. 

"  They  are  the  mountains  of  Albania,"  the  Prince  answered. 

"  Why,  but  that  sounds  as  if  we  were  at  the  end  of  the  world ! " 
I  cried,  startled. 

He  laughed  over  his  shoulder.  "  And  I  am  the  last  man  in  it ! 
What  did  I  say  to  you  yesterday?" 

This  reminder  brought  back  the  anger  I  was  forgetting  in  my 
need  of  human  fellowship,  and  I  did  not  speak  again,  but  hugged 
little  Airole  the  closer,  nestled  under  the  warm  rug. 

At  the  end  of  a  long,  straight  road  that  stretched  before  us  I 
could  see  a  single,  pale  yellow  light  suddenly  flash  up  in  the  twi 
light  like  a  lonely  primrose,  and  farther  on  a  little  knot  of  other 
lights  blossomed  in  the  dusk. 

"  We  shall  be  there  now  in  a  few  minutes,"  I  was  saying  to 
myself,  when  suddenly  I  was  startled  by  a  loud  report  like  a  pis 
tol-shot.  Aunt  Kathryn  gave  a  shriek  which  was  quite  hoarse  and 
unlike  her  natural  voice,  but  I  was  silent,  holding  Airole  trem 
bling  and  barking  under  my  arm. 


The  car  swerved  sharply  and  my  side  of  the  tonneau  seemed 
to  settle  down 


PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  297 

The  car  swerved  sharply,  and  my  side  of  the  tonneau  seemed 
to  settle  down.  I  was  sure  that  an  invisible  person  must  have  shot 
at  us,  and  wished  sincerely  that  the  Prince  would  drive  on  in 
stead  of  slacking  pace.  But  he  stopped  the  engine,  exclaiming  in 
an  angry  voice,  "  A  tyre  burst !  Thousand  furies,  why  could  n't  it 
have  waited  twenty  minutes  more  ?  " 

"  Is  it  serious  ?  "  I  asked ;  for  we  had  never  had  this  experience 
before,  on  any  of  the  rough  roads  we  had  travelled. 

"  No,"  he  answered  shortly,  "  not  serious,  but  annoying.  We 
can  crawl  on  for  a  little  way.  I  was  a  fool  to  stop  the  motor;  did  it 
without  thinking.  Now  I  shall  have  the  trouble  of  starting  again." 

Grumbling  thus,  he  got  out ;  but  the  motor  would  n't  start.  The 
engine  was  as  sullenly  silent  as  Aunt  Kathryn.  For  ten  minutes, 
perhaps,  the  Prince  tried  this  device  and  that  —  no  doubt  missing 
Joseph;  but  at  last  he  gave  up  in  despair.  "It  is  no  use,"  he 
groaned.  "I  am  spending  myself  for  nothing.  If  you  will  sit 
quietly  here  for  a  few  moments,  I  will  go  ahead  to  that  house 
where  the  light  is,  to  see  if  I  can  get  you  ladies  taken  in,  and  the 
car  hauled  into  a  place  where  I  can  work  at  it." 

"  What  language  do  they  speak  here  ?  "  I  asked,  a  chill  of  deso 
lation  upon  me. 

"  Slavic,"  he  answered.  "  But  I  can  talk  it  a  little.  I  shall  get  on, 
and  you  will  see  me  again  almost  at  once." 

So  saying,  he  was  off,  and  I  was  alone  with  the  statue  of  Aunt 
Kathryn. 

At  first  I  thought  that,  whatever  happened,  I  would  n't  be  the 
one  to  begin  a  conversation,  but  the  silence  and  deepening  dark 
ness  were  too  much  for  my  nerves.  "  Oh,  Aunt  Kathryn,  don't 
let 's  be  cross  to  each  other  any  longer,"  I  pleaded.  "  I  'm  tired  of 
it,  are  n't  you  ?  And  oh,  what  would  n't  I  give  to  be  back  in 
sweet  Ragusa  with  Beechy  and  —  and  the  others!" 

Still  not  a  word.  It  seemed  incredible  that  she  could  bear  mal 
ice  so;  but  there  was  no  cure  for  it.  If  she  would  not  be  softened 
by  that  plea  of  mine,  nothing  I  could  say  would  melt  her.  I 
should  have  liked  to  cry,  for  it  was  so  lonely  here,  and  so  dread- 


298  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

ful  to  be  estranged  from  one's  only  friend.  But  that  would  have 
been  too  childish,  and  I  took  what  comfort  I  could  from  Airole's 
tiny  presence. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  perhaps,  and  then  the  Prince 
came  back  accompanied  by  a  man  so  huge  that  the  tall  Austrian 
seemed  a  boy  beside  him.  They  looked  at  the  car,  communicat 
ing  by  gestures,  and  then  the  Prince  said,  if  we  would  walk  to  the 
house  the  woman  there  would  receive  us,  while  he  and  his  com 
panion  pushed  the  automobile  into  a  shed  which  the  man  had. 

I  made  no  further  attempt  to  extract  a  relenting  word  from 
Aunt  Kathryn,  as  we  tramped  side  by  side  along  the  road. 
Reaching  a  two-storied  stone  box  of  a  house,  she  dropped  behind 
at  the  doorway,  leaving  me  to  confront  a  hard-faced  woman  in  a 
white  jacket,  with  a  graceful  head-dress  half-hiding  her  black 
hair.  In  one  hand  she  had  a  partly  finished  stocking  with  knitting- 
needles  in  it;  in  the  other  she  held  a  candle  in  a  quaintly  made 
iron  candlestick.  Something  she  said  to  us  in  a  strange,  but 
rather  soft-sounding  language,  of  which  I  could  n't  understand 
one  syllable;  but  seeing  my  hopelessly  blank  expression  she 
smiled,  nodded,  and  motioned  us  to  cross  the  threshold. 

The  room  was  bare,  with  a  floor  of  pounded  earth.  There  was 
a  wooden  table  in  it,  a  few  shelves,  and  a  long  bench;  but  beyond 
was  a  more  attractive  interior,  for  in  an  inner  apartment  she  had 
lighted  a  fire  of  sticks  on  a  rude  hearth. 

I  stood  aside  to  let  Aunt  Kathryn  pass  in  before  me,  which  she 
did  without  a  word.  We  both  stood  before  the  fire,  holding  out 
gloved  hands  to  the  meagre  blaze,  while  little  Airole  ran  about, 
whimpering  and  examining  everything  with  unconcealed  dis 
approval. 

I  had  just  time  to  notice  how  oddly  shabby  Aunt  Kathryn's 
gloves  were,  and  to  wonder  if  she  did  n't  intend  to  take  off  the 
"  mushroom  "  (the  talc  window  of  which  the  firelight  transformed 
into  a  pane  of  red  glass),  when  Prince  Dalmar-Kalm  appeared. 
Without  asking  permission  he  walked  in,  and  looking  at  Aunt 
Kathryn,  said  in  French,  "You  may  go,  Victorine." 


PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  299 

I  stared,  as  bewildered  as  if  the  unfamiliar  scene  were  turning 
to  a  dream;  but  as  the  cloaked  and  mushroomed  figure  reached 
the  door,  the  spell  broke. 

I  took  a  step  after  it,  exclaiming,  "  Aunt  Kathryn  —  Kittie ! " 

The  door  shut  almost  in  my  face.  "That  is  not  your  Aunt 
Kathryn,"  said  the  Prince,  in  a  voice  which,  though  low,  vibrated 
with  excitement.  "  It  is  one  of  the  Contessa  Corramini's  servants, 
chosen  to  play  this  part  because  her  figure  is  enough  like  your 
aunt's  to  resemble  it  closely  in  a  motor-coat.  All  that  is  of  your 
aunt  is  that  coat,  the  hat,  the  mask  of  silk.  You  must  hear  the 
truth  now,  for  it  is  time,  and  know  what  you  have  to  face." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  I  stammered  weakly.  It  was  more 
than  ever  as  if  I  were  in  a  dream.  I  actually  told  myself  that  I 
would  wake  up  in  bed  at  the  Hotel  Imperial  in  Ragusa.  And  oh, 
how  I  wished  that  I  would  wake  soon! 

"I  will  make  you  understand,"  went  on  the  Prince.  "You 
know  —  you  've  known  for  many  days  —  how  I  love  you.  You 
have  forced  me  to  do  this  thing,  because  you  were  obstinate,  and 
would  not  give  me  yourself,  though  I  could  not  live  without  you. 
Because  I  could  not,  I  have  done  this.  It  was  planned  as  long  ago 
as  Venice.  I  confided  all  to  Corramini,  though  not  to  his  wife, 
and  he  promised  to  help  me  because  he  is  in  money  difficulties, 
and  I  agreed  to  do  something  for  him.  But  if  you  had  been  kind 
last  night  in  Ragusa,  when  I  gave  you  one  more  chance  to  repent, 
you  might  have  been  spared  this.  It  was  only  to  happen  if  all  else 
failed." 

"  Still  I  don't  understand,"  I  said  slowly. 

"Then  your  brain  is  not  as  quick  as  usual,  my  dear  one.  I 
hoped  Miss  Beechy  would  be  ill  to-day,  for  she  was  the  one  I 
feared.  There  was  a  little  medicine  in  that  pink,  Turkish  stuff  — 
not  to  hurt  her  much,  but  enough  for  my  purpose.  If  I  could,  I 
would  have  got  rid  of  the  aunt,  too;  only  she  was  needed  as  the 
cat's-paw.  You  would  never  have  come  without  her.  Contessa 
Corramini  knows  nothing  of  this,  though  she  has  a  suspicion  that 
something  mysterious  goes  on.  She  was  not  on  the  '  Arethusa.'  At 


300  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

this  moment  she  is  in  Venice.  Victorine  was  the  one  woman  be 
side  yourself  and  the  aunt  on  the  yacht,  and  Victorine  has  been 
well  paid  for  the  part  she  plays.  She  took  the  aunt's  coat  and  hat 
and  mask  out  of  the  cabin,  when  the  lady  was  on  deck  with  Cor- 
ramini  and  me,  wrapped  in  a  becoming  blue  cloak  with  a  hood, 
left  on  board  by  Contessa  Corramini.  While  the  aunt  was  looking 
everywhere  for  her  missing  things,  you  joined  the  masked  lady  in 
the  car.  Now,  we  are  farther  from  Schloss  Hrvoya  than  from  Cat- 
taro.  You  are  in  Montenegro,  where  I  have  brought  you  because 
the  Austrian  Consul  is  my  friend,  and  he  will  marry  us." 

"He  will  not!"  I  cried,  choking  and  breathless. 

"  He  must.  It  is  the  only  thing  for  you,  now.  Let  me  show  you 
the  situation,  in  case  you  do  not  yet  understand  all.  Your  aunt  is 
far  away.  She  will  be  enraged  with  you,  and  believe  you  to  blame 
for  the  humiliating  trick  played  on  her.  Never  will  she  forgive 
you.  If  there  is  a  scandal,  she  will  do  her  best  to  spread  it.  I  know 
women  well.  Don't  you  remember, '  Hell  hath  no  fury  like  a  wo 
man  scorned  ? '  There  will  be  others,  too.  Victorine  will  tell  a  dra 
matic  tale  to  the  Contessa  Corramini,  and  Corramini  will  gossip 
at  his  clubs  in  Venice,  Rome,  Florence,  Paris,  where  many  of 
your  rich  compatriots  are  members.  The  rights  of  the  story  will 
never  quite  be  known,  but  it  will  leak  out  that  you  came  to  Mon 
tenegro  with  me  alone,  and  spent  many  hours.  The  only  safe 
guard  is  to  make  it  an  elopement,  and  that  safeguard  I  offer  you, 
with  my  heart  and  all  that  is  mine.  You  must  leave  this  place  as 
the  Princess  Dalmar-Kalm,  or  it  would  be  better  for  your  future 
that  you  should  never  leave  it.  See,  I  am  the  last  man  in  your 
world  now,  and  it  is  necessary  that  you  take  me." 

"  I  did  n't  know,"  I  answered  in  the  dream,  "  that  men  like  you 
existed  out  of  novels  or  stage  plays.  That  is  why  I  failed  to  under 
stand  at  first.  I  was  giving  you  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  But  I  un 
derstand  now.  Let  me  go  —  " 

He  laughed.  "  No !  And  if  I  did,  what  good  would  it  do  you  ?  It 
is  night ;  you  are  many  miles  from  anywhere,  in  the  wildest  moun 
tains  of  Europe.  You  do  not  speak  one  word  of  the  language,  or 


PUTTING  TRUST  IN  PRINCES  301 

any  one  in  this  land  a  word  of  yours.  Practically,  you  are  alone 
in  the  world  with  me.  Even  your  wretched  little  dog  is  not  here  to 
snarl.  His  curiosity  took  him  outside,  and  he  cannot  get  back 
through  the  keyhole  of  the  door,  small  as  he  is.  Presently  the 
Consul  will  be  at  this  house.  I  had  meant  to  go  to  his  had  it  not 
been  for  the  accident,  but  I  will  send  for  him.  He  is  my  very 
good  friend.  He  will  do  what  I  ask." 

"  But  if  I  do  not  consent  ?  "  I  flung  at  him. 

"You  will  have  to  consent,"  he  said;  "and  soon  you  will  see 
that  for  yourself." 


PART  V 

TOLD  BY  TERENCE  BARRYMORE 
XXV 

A  CHAPTER  OF   CHASING 

I  WONDERED  why  the  ladies  did  n't  come  to  lunch,  for  the 
last  thing  they  had  said  when  we  brought  them  back  in  the 
motor  was,  "We  shall  see  you  again  at  half -past  twelve." 

Ralph  and  Bari  and  his  sister  and  I,waited  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour;  then  we  sat  down,  for  the  Signorina  thought  they  might 
have  changed  their  minds  and  be  lunching  with  the  little  invalid. 
But  at  half -past  one,  while  we  were  still  at  the  table,  a  message 
came  from  Miss  Beechy.  She  had  waked  up  from  her  nap,  "  sent 
her  compliments,"  and  would  be  glad  to  know  when  her  Mamma 
and  cousin  would  return  to  her. 

That  took  the  Signorina  flying  to  the  bedroom,  and  there  was 
an  interval  of  some  suspense  for  Ralph  and  me ;  for  the  absence 
of  the  ladies,  with  this  new  light  thrown  upon  it,  began  to  appear 
a  little  strange. 

The  Italian  girl  was  away  for  an  age,  it  seemed,  and  we  knew 
the  instant  we  saw  her,  that  she  was  not  the  bearer  of  reassuring 
news.  Her  pretty  face  looked  worried  and  excited. 

"  The  Countess  and  Miss  Destrey  have  not  been  up-stairs,"  she 
announced  in  her  native  tongue.  "  The  little  Bice  has  been  awake 
for  an  hour,  wondering  why  they  never  came.  Will  you  make  in 
quiries  of  the  landlord  ?  " 

I  lost  not  a  moment  in  obeying  this  request ;  and  even  before  I 
got  my  answer,  I  seemed  to  know  that  Dalmar-Kalm  would  be 
mixed  up  in  the  affair.  The  ladies  had  driven  away  with  His  High 
ness  in  a  hired  cab  not  many  minutes  after  we  had  brought  them 
to  the  hotel  door  with  the  motor. 


304  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

On  the  face  of  it,  it  looked  ridiculous  to  fear  mischief,  yet  I  was 
uneasy.  If  I  had  not  worshipped  Her  so  much  —  but  then,  there 
had  ceased  to  be  any  "  if "  in  it  long  ago.  I  had  very  little 
hope  that  she  could  ever  be  got  to  care,  even  if  I  could  reconcile  it 
with  common  decency  to  ask  a  girl  to  think  of  a  stony-broke  beg 
gar  like  me.  But  in  some  moods  I  was  mad  to  try  my  luck,  when 
I  reflected  on  what  she  had  before  her  if  I  —  or  some  other  brute 
of  a  man  —  did  n't  snatch  her  from  it.  But  whether  or  no  she 
were  ever  to  be  more  to  me  than  a  goddess,  the  bare  thought  of 
trouble  or  harm  coming  to  her  was  enough  to  drive  me  out  of  my 
wits. 

While  I  was  smoking  two  cigarettes  a  minute  on  the  verandah, 
and  asking  myself  whether  I  should  be  Paddy  the  Fool  to  track 
her  down,  with  her  aunt  and  the  Prince,  Signorina  Bari  (who 
had  run  up  to  Beechy  with  the  latest  developments)  came  out  to 
us.  "  Sir  Ralph,"  said  she,  "  little  Miss  Kidder  says  she  must  see 
you,  in  a  great  hurry.  She  has  something  important  to  tell,  that 
she  can't  tell  to  any  one  else;  so  she  has  got  up,  and  is  on  the 
sofa  in  a  dressing-gown,  in  the  Countess's  private  sitting-room." 

Ralph  looked  surprised,  but  not  displeased,  and  was  away 
twenty  minutes. 

"  Miss  Beechy  wants  us  to  find  out  where  Dalmar-Kalm  has 
taken  her  mother  and  Miss  Destrey,"  said  he,  when  he  returned 
from  the  interview. 

The  order  was  welcome.  Nothing  was  known  at  the  hotel  con 
cerning  the  destination  of  the  Prince  and  his  companions  in  the 
cab,  so  I  hurried  to  get  the  car,  and  Ralph  and  I  drove  off  to 
gether,  meaning  to  make  inquiries  in  the  town. 

"Did  Miss  Beechy's  mysterious  communication  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  her  cousin  ?  "  I  could  n't  resist  asking  Ralph, 
who  sat  beside  me,  in  that  blessed  seat  sacred  so  long  to  the  One 
Woman. 

"  Yes,  it  had,"  he  replied  discreetly. 

"  And  with  Dalmar-Kalm  ?  " 

"Distinctly  with  Dalmar-Kalm." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING  305 

That  sent  some  blood  up  behind  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  Ragusa 
red,  instead  of  pink. 

"  By  Jove,  you  've  got  to  tell  me  what  she  did  say,  now ! "  I 
exclaimed. 

"  Can't,  my  dear  chap.  It 's  a  promise  —  after  a  confidence. 
But  I  don't  mind  letting  out  this  much.  It  seems  Miss  Beechy  has 
been  playing  dolls  with  us,  as  she  calls  it,  on  this  trip,  without  any 
of  us  suspecting  it  —  or  at  least  seeing  the  game  in  its  full 
extent.  Owing  to  her  manipulation  of  her  puppets,  there  's  the 
dickens  to  pay,  and  she  thinks  she  has  reason  to  know  that 
Dalmar-Kalm  had  better  not  be  allowed  to  take  a  long  excursion 
with  Miss  Destrey,  even  chaperoned  by  our  dear,  wise  Countess.'' 

"  Good  Heavens ! "  I  jerked  out.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  myself.  Things  may  n't  be  as  serious  as 
the  little  girl  thinks  in  her  present  remorseful  mood,  no  doubt  in 
tensified  by  her  late  illness.  'When  the  devil  was  sick,  the  devil  a 
monk  would  be,'  you  know  —  and  the  rest  of  it.  Still,  we  're  safe 
in  finding  out  where  the  party  has  gone  and  taking  steps  ac 
cordingly." 

"  There  's  Joseph,  mooning  about  with  his  hands  in  his  pock 
ets,  like  a  lost  soul,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Have  lost  souls  pockets  ?  " 

"  Shut  up.  I  'm  going  to  catechize  him.  He  rather  likes  me,  and 
has  several  times  relieved  his  mind  on  the  subject  of  his  master,by 
spitting  venom  to  his  brother  chauffeur  until  I  refused  to  listen." 

With  this  I  stopped  the  car  in  front  of  the  gaudy  shop  which 
had  attracted  the  dismal  little  Joseph. 

"  Is  your  car  mended  already  ?  "  I  asked  him  in  French. 

"  It  was  not  broken,  Monsieur." 

"Really.  I  understood  the  Prince  to  say  it  was." 

"  I  know  not  what  he  said.  Is  there  anything  that  His  Highness 
would  not  say,  if  it  pleased  him  ?  But  so  far  from  the  car  being  in 
jured,  I  was  kept  up  most  of  the  night  by  his  command,  putting  it 
in  the  best  order,  looking  to  every  nut,  seeing  that  the  grease- 
cups  were  filled,  and  everything  as  fine  as  though  to  try  for  first 


306  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

prize  in  a  show.  This  morning  did  I  get  a  moment's  sleep  ?  On  the 
contrary,  I  must  drive  the  automobile  at  eight  o'clock,  before  any 
one  was  up,  down  to  the  harbour,  and  with  much  trouble  put  it 
on  the  yacht  of  the  Conte  Corramini,  which  had  come  into  this 
port,  the  saints  alone  know  why." 

"  I  should  say  the  saints  had  little  to  do  with  the  affair,"  re 
marked  Ralph,  but  I  cut  him  short. 

"What  then?"  I  asked. 

"  Then  it  must  be  covered  up,  His  Highness  said,  in  case  of  rain 
—  though  the  sky  was  as  dry  as  my  throat  —  till  you  could  not 
tell  the  automobile  from  a  haystack,  on  the  forward  deck  where 
it  had  been  placed." 

"And  after  that?" 

"  After  that  I  know  nothing,  except  that  His  Highness  conde 
scended  to  remark  that  he  would  go  away  for  a  trip  to-day,  and 
I  was  to  wait  for  him  until  I  heard  further.  That  will  be  soon,  for 
when  it  comes  to  real  work  on  the  car  it  breaks  his  heart.  He  can 
drive,  but  apart  from  that  he  knows  no  more  of  the  automobile 
than  does  the  little  black  dog  adopted  by  the  beautiful  made 
moiselle." 

"  I  suppose  you  '11  get  a  wire  to-morrow  at  latest,"  said  I. 
"Well,  au  revoir.  We  're  turning  here." 
, "  Going  to  the  harbour  ?  "  Ralph  asked,  dryly,  and  I  nodded. 

I  am  afraid  that  we  did  the  mile  to  Gravosa  in  a  good  deal  less 
than  the  legal  limit,  but  luckily  no  one  was  the  worse  for  it,  and 
there  were  no  policemen  about. 

At  Gravosa  we  found  some  men  on  the  quay  who  could  talk 
Italian,  and  in  five  minutes  I  knew  for  certain  what  I  had  sus 
pected.  A  white  yacht  answering  the  description  I  gave  of  "  Are- 
thusa,  "  had  sent  a  boat  before  noon  to  meet  a  cab  bringing  to  the 
port  two  ladies  and  a  gentleman.  The  Signore  were  in  long 
brownish  coats  and  close  hats. One  was  stout,  with  much  colour; 
the  other,  a  young  girl,  transcendently  beautiful. 

"That  impudent  fellow  has  whisked  them  off  to  Cattaro,  to 
see  his  beastly  ancestral  ruin,"  suggested  Ralph.  "  That 's  what 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING  307 

he  's  done.  He  's  probably  chuckling  now  with  savage  glee  to 
think  that  willy-nilly  Countess  Kidder-Dalmar  can't  get  out  of 
her  bargain." 

"  I  don't  believe  they  would  willingly  have  left  the  little  girl 
lying  there  ill,  to  say  nothing  of  leaving  us  in  the  lurch  without 
a  word,"  said  I.  "Ralph,  there's  something  pretty  devilish 
under  this,  or  I  '11  eat  my  hat." 

"  Well,  I  should  expect  to  see  you  devouring  it,  if  —  I  had  n't 
heard  Beechy's  confess  —  if  she  had  n't  told  me  some  things," 
Ralph  amended  his  sentence. 

"  I  'm  hanged  if  I  won't  give  chase ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  How  can  you  ?  You  were  saying  at  lunch  that  so  far  as  you  'd 
been  able  to  fog  it  out,  there  was  n't  more  than  the  ghost  of  a 
road  after  Castelnuovo  on  to  Cattaro ;  and  it 's  to  Cattaro  one 
must  go  for  the  ancestral  ruin." 

"  If  there  's  a  ghost  of  a  road,  it  will  do  for  me  and  this  motor," 
I  said.  "  What  does  it  matter  if  we  're  both  smashed,  if  only  we 
get  there  first  ?  " 

"  Men  and  motors  don't  get  far  when  they  're  smashed.  You  '11 
have  to  wait  till  to-morrow  morning,  when  we  can  all  go  flying 
down  by  the  Austrian  Lloyd,  if  the  truants  don't  turn  up  in  the 
meantime." 

"  Wait  till  to-morrow  morning  ?  My  name  is  n't  Terence  Bar- 
rymore  if  I  do  that,  or  if  I  wait  one  minute  longer  than  it  will  take 
me  to  go  back  where  I  came,  and  load  up  with  petrol  enough  to 
see  me  through  this  job  for  good  or  evil." 

"  You  '11  start  off  at  once,  without  finding  out  any  more  —  and 
road  or  no  road  ?  " 

"  There  's  no  more  to  find  out  this  side  of  Cattaro,  unless  I  'm 
far  out  of  my  reckoning ;  and  if  there  's  no  road  after  Castelnu 
ovo,  I  '11  —  I  '11  get  through  somehow,  never  fear." 

"  I  don't  fear  much,  when  you  set  your  jaw  that  way,  my  son.  I 
suppose  you  '11  just  give  me  time  to  make  my  will,  and  —  er  — 
say  good-bye  to  Miss  Beechy  ?  " 

"You  're  not  going,  Ralph.  I  must  travel  light,  for  speed;  I 


308  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

don't  want  an  unnecessary  ounce  of  weight  on  board  that  car  to 
day,  for  she  's  got  to  show  her  paces  as  she  never  did  before.  You 
must  stop  behind,  and  instead  of  saying  good-bye,  try  to  cheer 
Miss  Beechy." 

"  Well,  needs  must,  when  somebody  drives,"  mumbled  Ralph. 
But  he  did  not  look  very  dismal. 

I  made  no  preparations,  save  to  fill  up  with  petrol  and  put  all 
the  spare  bidons  sent  by  the  Austrian  Lloyd  in  the  tonneau.  I  was 
in  flannels,  as  the  day  was  not  to  be  a  motoring  day,  and  I 
would  n't  have  delayed  even  long  enough  to  fetch  my  big  coat,  if 
I  had  n't  suddenly  thought  that  I  might  be  glad  of  it  for  Her. 
Ralph  saw  me  off,  making  me  promise  to  wire  from  Cattaro  —  if 
I  ever  got  there !  —  as  soon  as  there  was  news  for  Beechy  of  her 
mother  and  cousin. 

Once  out  on  the  open  road  I  gave  the  old  car  her  head,  and 
she  bounded  along  like  an  India  rubber  ball,  curtseying  to  un 
dulations,  spinning  round  curves  along  the  sea  coast,  and  past 
quaint  old  towns  which  I  thought  of  only  as  obstacles. 

Often  when  you  wish  your  car  to  show  what  she  can  do,  she 
puts  on  the  air  of  a  spoiled  child  and  shames  you.  But  to-day  it 
was  as  if  the  motor  knew  what  I  wanted,  and  was  straining  every 
nerve  to  help  me  get  it.  In  a  time  that  was  short  even  to  my  im 
patience,  she  and  I  did  the  thirty-odd  miles  to  Castelnuovo.  A 
few  questions  there  as  to  the  feasibility  of  trying  to  reach  Cattaro 
by  road,  brought  no  information  definite  enough  to  make  the  ex 
periment  worth  the  risk  of  failure.  At  best  there  would  be  many 
rough  miles  to  cover,  in  rounding  the  numerous  arms  of  that 
great  starfish,  the  Bocche  di  Cattaro,  and  no  boat  of  the  Aus 
trian  Lloyd  or  Hungarian  Croatian  lines  was  available  to-day, 
even  if  shipping  the  motor  in  that  way  would  n't  have  involved 
endless  red  tape,  delay  and  bother.  Nevertheless,  with  a  simmer 
ing  inspiration  in  my  mind,  I  steered  the  car  down  a  narrow  road 
that  led  to  the  harbour,  a  crowd  pattering  after  me  which,  no 
doubt,  was  very  picturesque  if  I  had  been  in  the  mood  to  ob 
serve  it.  But  my  eyes  were  open  for  one  thing  only,  and  at  the 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING  309 

port  under  the  high  walls  of  the  fortresses  that  leap  to  the  sky,  I 
knew  that  I  had  found  it. 

A  good-sized  fishing  boat  with  a  painted  sail  aflap  against  the 
mast,  lay  alongside  the  quay.  Beside  it  stood  gossiping  two  fine 
sailor-men,  heroically  tall,  with  features  cut  in  bronze.  At  the 
thrum  of  the  motor  and  clatter  of  the  crowd  they  turned  to  stare, 
and  I  drove  straight  at  them,  but  in  order  not  to  give  them  a 
fright  stopped  short  a  good  five  yards  away. 

The  proud  men  of  these  parts  are  not  easily  scared,  and  all  that 
these  two  did  was  to  take  their  black  pipes  out  of  their  mouths. 
Not  a  word  of  Slavic  have  I  to  bless  myself  with,  but  I  tumbled 
out  Italian  sentences,  and  they  understood,  as  I  was  pretty  sure 
they  would.  What  I  asked  was,  would  they  take  me  and  my  motor 
in  their  boat,  immediately,  on  the  instant,  to  Cattaro?  One 
grinned ;  the  other  shook  his  head ;  but  he  had  n't  wagged  it  from 
left  to  right  before  I  pulled  a  handful  of  Austrian  gold  and  silver 
out  of  rny  pockets,  which  were  luckily  well-filled  with  the  hard- 
earned  money  of  my  chauffeurhood. 

The  man  who  had  grinned,  grinned  wider;  the  man  who  had 
shaken  his  head  did  not  shake  it  again.  I  bargained  just  enough 
to  please  them  with  the  notion  that  they  were  plucking  me ;  and 
five  minutes  later  we  three  were  hauling  a  few  planks  scattered  on 
the  quay,  to  form  a  gangway  to  the  boat. 

As  for  the  fascinated  crowd,  not  a  man  Jack  of  them  but  was 
at  my  service,  after  the  display  of  coin  which  no  bright  eye  had 
missed.  In  no  time  we  had  our  gangway  laid  on  to  the  gunwale, 
and  a  couple  of  sloping  planks  to  roll  the  motor  on  board.  The 
next  thing  was  for  me  to  jump  into  the  car  and  begin  to  drive 
gently  ahead,  directing  the  sailors  with  nods  and  becks  to  steady 
her  by  grasping  the  spokes  of  her  wheels.  Thus  we  got  her  into 
the  boat,  none  the  worse  for  the  ordeal;  then,  picking  up  a  rope,  I 
was  about  to  make  her  fast  when  professional  spirit  woke  in  my 
two  hosts,  and  taking  the  rope  from  me  they  lashed  the  car  as 
none  but  seamen  can. 

While  one  stalwart  fellow  poled  the  boat  off  from  the  quay,  his 


310  MY  FRIEND  THE   CHAUFFEUR 

mate  hoisted  the  yard  that  carried  the  triangular  sail.  A  follow 
ing  wind,  which  had  been  detestable  on  the  dusty  road,  gave  us 
good  speed  on  our  errand ;  the  broad-bowed  old  boat  made  creak 
ing  progress,  a  shower  of  silver  foam  hissing  from  her  cutwater. 

My  furious  energy  had  been  contagious,  and  perhaps,  seeing 
my  desire  for  haste,  the  fishers  hoped  to  earn  something  further 
from  the  madman's  gratitude.  All  they  could  do  to  urge  their 
craft  they  did. 

In  other  circumstances  —  say  with  Her  by  .my  side  —  I  should 
have  been  filled  with  enthusiasm  for  the  Bocche  di  Cattaro  and 
its  scenery,  for  never  had  I  seen  anything  quite  like  it ;  but  now  I 
grudged  each  screen  of  rock  that  stopped  the  breeze,  each  wind 
ing  of  the  water. 

From  the  narrow  opening  where  the  Adriatic  rushes  into  Cat 
taro  at  the  hidden  end  of  the  great  sheet  of  lakes,  can't  be  more 
than  fifteen  miles  as  the  crow  flies;  but  so  does  the  course  twist 
that  it  is  much  longer  for  mere  wingless  things,  going  by  water. 
How  I  wished  for  a  motor-boat !  But  we  did  not  do  badly  in  the 
big  fishing  smack.  I  feared  at  last  that  in  the  straits  the  wind 
might  die,  but  instead  it  blew  as  through  a  funnel.  We  were 
swept  finely  up  the  narrow  channel,  and  so  into  the  last  lake 
with  Cattaro  and  its  high  fort  at  the  end  of  it ;  and  my  heart  gave 
a  bound  as  I  saw  "  Arethusa  "  lying  anchored  at  the  quay. 

We  had  more  trouble  in  landing  the  motor  than  in  getting  her 
aboard,  but  the  thing  was  done  at  last;  more  coins  changed 
hands,  and  there  was  the  car  on  shore  with  another  crowd  round 
her.  I  engaged  one  of  my  bronzed  fishermen  to  stand  guard  lest 
mischief  should  be  done,  and  stalked  off  to  the  yacht ;  but  before 
I  reached  her  I  was  met  by  Corramini  himself,  all  smiles  and 
graciousness. 

"  I  heard  your  motor,"  said  he,  "  and  guessed  your  mission. 
You  have  come,  of  course,  to  see  the  ladies  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  not  troubling  to  waste  words  on  him.  "Miss 
Kidder  is  anxious." 

"  Ah,  then  did  they  not  leave  word  ?  I  suppose  there  was  n't 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING  311 

time,  as  I  understand  the  excursion  was  planned  in  a  hurry.  I 
don't  know  the  details.  It  has  only  been  my  duty,  as  my  pleasure, 
to  act  as  host.  Dalmar-Kalm  desired  to  show  the  ladies  Schloss 
Hrvoya,  and  brought  his  automobile  on  board  for  that  purpose. 
He  started  almost  as  soon  as  we  arrived  here,  well  before  five 
o'clock,  and  should  have  been  back  some  time  ago,  according  to 
his  calculation.  But  I  suppose  it  was  a  temptation  to  linger,  or 
else  there  has  been  trouble  with  the  motor.  Unfortunately  the 
chauffeur  was  left  at  Ragusa,  as  my  friend  is  inclined  to  be  a  little 
vain  of  his  driving.  But  I  doubt  his  powers  as  an  engineer,  and 
have  been  somewhat  anxious  for  the  past  half  hour." 

"  It  is  after  seven  o'clock,"  I  said. 

"  Yes.  I  was  dining  when  I  heard  your  motor.  I  would  ask  you 
on  board  to  have  something,  but  I  see  by  your  face  that  you  have 
it  in  mind  to  run  to  the  rescue;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  kind  as 
well  as  wise.  Do  you  know  how  to  reach  Schloss  Hrvoya  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  it  on  the  map,"  I  replied,  "  and  can  easily  find  it, 
no  doubt,  by  inquiries." 

"  Or  you  may  meet  the  other  automobile  en  route.  Well,  your 
coming  is  a  relief  to  my  mind.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  on  your  re 
turn  that  all  is  well." 

"Thanks,"  said  I  rather  stiffly,  for  the  man's  personality  was 
repellent  to  me,  and  in  Venice  I  'd  heard  some  stories,  not  very 
nice  ones,  concerning  his  career.  He  is  of  good  family,  is  tolerated 
by  society  for  his  dead  father's  sake  and  his  wife's,  but  once  or 
twice  a  crash  has  nearly  come,  so  the  whisper  runs  about  the 
clubs. 

Not  trusting  his  fluent  affability,  I  hesitated  whether  to  be 
lieve  him  and  start,  or  to  say  I  would  accept  his  suggestion  to  go 
on  board,  in  order  that  I  might  have  a  look  round  "  Arethusa  " 
before  committing  myself  to  anything.  As  I  stood  in  doubt  I  was 
hailed  from  the  deck  of  the  yacht,  and  there,  to  my  surprise,  stood 
our  Countess,  showing  dishevelment  even  in  the  distance  and 
twilight. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Terrymore,  is  that  you  ?  "  she  cried  to  me. 


312  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

I  gave  the  Corramini  a  look,  as  I  shouted  in  reply,  but  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  had  no  time  to  mention  yet  that  the 
Countess  was  not  of  the  party  for  Schloss  Hrvoya,"  said  he,  "  for 
thereby  hangs  a  tale,  as  your  great  poet  says,  and  it  would  have 
taken  too  long  to  tell;  but  now  I  suppose  she  must  delay  you.  It  is 
a  pity." 

I  had  no  answer  for  him.  It  was  clear  that,  whatever  had  oc 
curred,  it  had  been  his  object  to  deceive  me,  and  hustle  me  quick 
ly  away  from  the  dangerous  neighbourhood  of  the  yacht  before  I 
could  find  out  that  the  Countess,  at  all  events,  was  still  on  board. 
But  chance  had  thwarted  him,  and  he  was  making  the  best  of  it 
with  characteristic  cleverness,  saving  his  own  skin. 

Bareheaded,  her  wondrous  auburn  hair  disordered,  her  face 
blurred  with  half -dried  tears,  the  poor  woman  met  me  half-way, 
skipping  across  the  gangway  on  to  the  now  almost  deserted  quay. 

"  Something  awful 's  happened,"  she  gasped. 

"  What  ?  "  I  asked,  a  sudden  tightness  in  my  throat. 

"  That 's  the  worst  of  it.  I  don't  know.  And  the  County  doesn't 
know." 

"  Tell  me  as  well  as  you  can." 

"  Why,  we  came  here  on  purpose  for  the  Prince  to  take  me  to 
Slosh  Hrvoya.  He  wanted  it  so  much.  Maida  had  to  be  along,  be 
cause  it  would  have  made  talk  if  he  and  I  'd  come  alone ;  but  her 
being  with  us  was  n't  of  any  importance  to  him,  he  told  me  so 
himself.  Well,  when  his  automobile  was  landed  just  where  we  're 
standing  now,  I  told  Maida  to  get  ready  and  went  to  my  cabin  to 
get  ready  myself,  but  my  things  were  all  gone  —  my  hat  and 
coat,  and  motor-mask  and  everything.  I  thought,  I  could  have 
left  them  in  the  sallong,  though  I  was  sure  I  had  n't;  but  I  hur 
ried  to  look.  They  were  n't  there,  and  I  ran  back  to  Maida's  door, 
thinking  it  just  possible,  to  play  me  a  trick  —  as  she  was  cross  — 
she  might,  have  hidden  my  things  while  I  was  on  deck.  But  she  'd 
gone  off  and  the  things  were  nowhere.  At  that  minute  I  heard  a 
noise  like  a  motor,  and  looked  out  of  my  porthole,  but  already  it 
was  out  of  sight  from  there,  and  I  got  up  on  deck  again  only  in 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING  313 

time  to  catch  sight  of  the  Prince's  automobile  flashing  away  at 
about  a  mile  a  minute." 

"  Miss  Destrey  was  in  the  car  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  She  was  sitting  in  the  tonneau ;  and  it  looked  as  if 
there  was  some  one  beside  the  Prince ;  but  Maida  was  in  the  way, 
so  I  could  n't  make  sure,  and  while  I  was  dodging  my  head  about, 
trying  to  see,  the  automobile  disappeared.  Did  you  ever  know 
anything  so  horrid  ?  I  'm  furious,  and  I  don't  know  what  the 
Prince  must  be  thinking  of  me." 

I  was  aghast  at  this  unexpected  point  of  view,  but  her  next 
words  enlightened  me.  "  It 's  Maida's  fault,  I  know  that,  though 
I  don't  see  how  she  managed  the  thing.  She  was  wild  with  me  be 
cause  I  stood  up  for  the  Prince  carrying  us  off  like  this,  and  I  sup 
pose  she  just  thought  she  'd  punish  me  by  somehow  cheating  me 
out  of  the  pleasure  I  'd  been  looking  forward  to.  I  can't  think  of 
anything  else,  and  neither  can  the  County.  He  says  Maida  prob 
ably  told  the  Prince  that  at  the  last  minute  I  'd  refused  to  go  with 
him ;  otherwise  he  never  would  have  driven  off  with  her  and  left 
me  like  that." 

I  saw  that  it  would  be  a  simple  waste  of  time  to  argue  with  her, 
and  did  n't  attempt  it.  "  I  'm  going  to  look  for  them,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  do  take  me  with  you. " 

I  thought  for  a  second  or  two.  The  Countess  is  n't  exactly  a 
featherweight,  and  speed  was  an  object;  but  protection  for  Miss 
Destrey  was  a  still  greater  consideration,  and  it  might  be  well  for 
her  to  have  even  this  foolish  little  woman's  companionship. 
"Certainly,"  I  replied.  "I  shall  be  very  glad." 

Wraps  of  some  sort  for  her  head  and  body  were  borrowed  on 
board  the  yacht,  Corramini  showing  himself  kind  and  helpful, 
and  with  but  a  few  minutes'  delay  for  the  lady's  preparations,  and 
lighting  the  lamps,  we  were  ready  to  start. 

My  mind  was  on  the  rack  of  doubt  and  distraction,  but  though 
I  trusted  Corramini  not  at  all,  I  could  n't  see  why  the  most  likely 
way  to  choose  for  the  chase  might  not  be  the  road  to  Hrvoya. 
Dalmar-Kalm  must  be  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  neighbour- 


314  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

hood,  and  might  have  acquaintances  along  the  route  who  would 
help  him.  Corramini  was  watching  the  start,  so  I  took  the  direc 
tion  which,  from  some  previous  poring  over  local  maps,  I  knew 
must  lead  towards  Dalmar-Kalm's  ruinous  inheritance.  This  I 
did,  lest  he  might  have  some  means  of  communicating  with  his 
friend;  but  once  out  of  his  sight,  I  slowed  down,  and  addressed 
every  one  I  met,  in  Italian.  Had  a  motor-car  been  seen  driving 
this  way  during  the  afternoon  ?  Several  persons  stared  blankly, 
and  did  not  brighten  to  intelligence  when  Italian  was  exchanged 
for  faulty  German ;  but  we  had  not  gone  far  when  we  caught  up 
with  a  ricketty  cab,  whose  driver  was  evidently  dawdling  home 
ward  to  shelter  for  the  night.  His  pitch  was,  perhaps,  near  the 
quay,  and  if  so  he  might  be  the  very  man  I  wanted. 

I  hailed  him,  and  fortunately  he  had  a  little  Italian,  and  more 
French,  of  which  he  was  innocently  vain. 

"  I  have  seen  an  automobile,"  said  he,  "  but  it  was  not  coming 
this  way.  There  cannot  have  been  another,  for  till  to-day  we  have 
seen  no  such  thing  since  Prince  Jaime  de  Bourbon  drove  here  and 
up  to  Montenegro,  which  made  a  great  excitement  for  every  one 
some  years  ago.  And  this  one  to-day  has  also  gone  to  Monte 
negro." 

I  asked  him  to  describe  the  vehicle,  and  not  only  did  he  give  it 
all  the  characteristics  of  the  Prince's  car,  but  said  that  he  had 
seen  it  slung  on  shore  from  a  white  yacht,  which  ended  all  doubt 
upon  the  motor's  identity,  unless  by  any  chance  he  had  been 
bribed  by  Dalmar-Kalm  to  mislead  inquirers.  This  seemed  a 
far-fetched  supposition;  but  why  should  Montenegro  be  chosen 
as  a  destination  ?  I  asked  this  question  aloud,  half  to  myself,  half 
to  the  Countess,  and  after  a  fashion  she  answered  it  from  the 
tonneau. 

"  Dear  me,  I  can't  think  why  on  earth  they  should  go  there ; 
but  I  believe  I  do  remember  the  Prince  once  saying,  ever  so  long 
ago  when  we  first  talked  of  driving  down  into  Dalmatia,  that  he 
had  a  friend  in  Montenegro  —  an  Austrian  Consul,  though  I 
don't  know  in  what  city  there." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  CHASING  315 

"  There  's  only  one  —  the  capital,  Cettinje,"  I  said  mechan 
ically,  and  my  thoughts  leaped  ahead  to  the  place  I  named. 

"  The  scoundrel ! "  I  muttered  under  my  breath. 

"Who,  the  Austrian  Consul?" 

"  No.  For  all  I  know,  he  may  be  a  splendid  fellow  and  prob 
ably  is ;  he  would  never  do  the  thing.  But  that  beast  might  hope 
it." 

"  What  beast  —  what  thing  —  hope  what  ?  " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Countess.  I  was  talking  to  myself.  Noth 
ing  that  you  would  care  to  hear  repeated." 


XXVI 
A  CHAPTER  OF  HIGH  DIPLOMACY 

I  HAD  heard  travellers  speak,  and  had  read  in  books,  of  that 
mighty  feat  of  engineering  the  road  to  Montenegro;  but 
even  so  I  was  not  prepared  for  the  thrilling  grandeur  of 
that  night  drive  in  the  mountains. 

With  a  carriage  and  two  horses,  counting  halts  for  rests  we 
must  have  been  seven  good  hours  on  the  way  to  Cettinje ;  but  my 
little  twelve  horse-power  car  worked  with  me  heart  and  soul  (I 
shall  always  believe  now  that  she  's  got  something  of  the  sort, 
packed  away  in  her  engine),  and  we  reached  the  lonely  Monte 
negrin  frontier,  near  the  mountain-top,  in  not  much  over  an  hour 
after  our  start.  I  caught  the  glimmer  of  the  white  stones  that 
mark  the  dividing  line  between  Austrian  ground  and  the  brave 
little  Principality,  and  knew  what  they  must  mean.  Twenty  min 
utes  more  saw  us  at  the  highest  point  of  the  stupendous  road; 
and  dipping  for  a  flight  downward,  we  arrived  not  long  after  in 
the  cup-like  plain  where  the  first  Montenegrin  village  showed  a 
few  lights.  I  stopped  at  a  small  inn,  ordered  brandy  for  the  Coun 
tess  (who  was  half  dead  with  cold  or  terror  of  our  wild  race  be 
side  precipices)  and  inquired  of  the  German-speaking  landlord 
about  the  Prince's  car. 

Yes,  a  big  red  automobile  had  rushed  by,  much  to  the  surprise 
of  every  one,  about  an  hour  ago.  No  doubt  it  was  bound  for  Cet 
tinje;  but  there  had  been  no  news  of  it  since. 

We  flashed  on  without  waiting  for  further  parley.  It  was  a 
long  way  yet,  but  the  car  devoured  the  road  as  if  she  were  starv 
ing.  At  last  we  saw  a  single  light  to  the  left,  and  then  a  bunch  of 

316 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HIGH  DIPLOMACY         317 

lights  huddled  together  in  a  mountain-ringed  plain,  half  a  mile  or 
so  beyond.  To  my  annoyance  I  had  to  slacken  speed  for  a  flock  of 
belated  and  bewildered  sheep,  just  as  we  were  nearing  the  first 
light,  but  in  a  moment  we  would  have  shot  ahead  again,  had  not 
my  attention  been  caught  by  the  sharp  yelping  of  a  little  dog. 

It  was  not  the  defiant  yap  of  an  enemy  to  motors,  but  rather  a 
glad  welcome ;  and  the  thin  shred  of  sound  was  curiously  famil 
iar.  Instead  of  putting  on  speed,  I  stopped  dead  in  the  middle  of 
the  road. 

"Whist!  Airole,  is  that  you  ?"  I  called. 

In  an  instant  a  tiny  black  form  was  making  wild  springs  at  the 
car,  trying  to  get  in.  It  was  Airole  and  no  other. 

"  This  is  where  they  are,"  I  said.  "  In  that  house,  yonder.  If  it 
had  n't  been  for  the  dog,  we  'd  have  gone  on,  and  —  "It  was  n't 
worth  while  to  finish, 

I  drove  to  the  side  and  stopped  the  engine.  The  Countess 
would  go  with  me,  of  course,  and  it  was  better  that  she  should ; 
for  she  was  the  girl's  aunt,  and  this  was  the  pass  her  foolishness 
had  brought  her  to. 

Airole  pattered  before  us,  leaping  at  the  shut  door  of  a  rough, 
two-story  house  of  dark  stone.  I  knocked;  no  one  came,  and  I 
pounded  again.  If  there  had  been  no  answer  that  time,  I  meant  to 
try  and  break  the  door  in  with  my  shoulder,  which  has  had  some 
experience  as  a  battering  ram  and  perhaps  those  inside  guessed 
at  my  intentions,  for  there  followed  a  scrambling  sound.  A 
bolt  was  slipped  back,  and  then  a  tall  Montenegrin,  belted  and 
armed  with  knife  and  big  revolver,  blocked  up  the  doorway. 

I  tried  him  in  Italian.  No  use; he  jabbered  protests  in  Slavic, 
with  a  wife  peeping  curiously  over  his  shoulder,  as  the  Countess 
peeped  over  mine.  Finally,  to  save  time  and  somebody's  blood, 
perhaps,  I  offered  an  Austrian  note  and  it  proved  a  passport. 
They  let  us  go  in;  and  entering,  I  heard  Miss  Destrey's  voice 
raised  in  fear  or  anger,  behind  another  closed  door. 

Then  most  of  the  blood  in  my  body  seemed  to  spring  to  my 
head,  and  I  have  no  very  distinct  recollection  of  anything  more, 


318  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

till  I  found  that  I  had  done  to  that  second  door  what  I  'd  meant 
to  do  to  the  first,  and  that  Maida  had  run  straight  into  my  arms. 

"  My  darling ! "  I  heard  myself  exclaiming.  I  know  that  I  held 
her  tight  against  my  heart  for  an  instant,  saying,  "  Thank  Heav 
en  ! "  that  she  seemed  to  have  been  mine  for  all  the  past  and  must 
belong  to  me  for  all  the  future.  I  know  that  she  was  sobbing  a  lit 
tle,  that  she  clung  to  me;  and  that  then,  remembering  the  man 
and  what  was  owing  him,  I  put  her  away  to  begin  his  punish 
ment. 

"You  unspeakable  ruffian!"  I  threw  the  words  at  him,  and 
threw  myself  at  the  same  time.  I  think  we  struggled  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  but  I  am  younger  than  he,  as  well  as  bigger,  so  it  was  not 
much  credit  to  my  prowess  that  I  soon  had  my  hand  twisted  in 
his  collar  and  was  shaking  him  as  if  he  'd  been  a  rat. 

It  was  the  Countess  who  stopped  the  fun,  by  hurling  herself  be 
tween  us,  quite  like  the  heroine  of  old-fashioned  melodrama. 
"  Oh,  for  my  sake,  for  my  sake ! "  she  was- wailing.  "  It  was  n't  his 
fault.  Wait  and  let  him  have  the  chance  to  explain." 

One  more  shake  I  gave,  and  threw  him  off,  so  that  he  staggered 
back  against  the  wall. 

"  He  threatened  to  shoot  me  at  last,"  cried  Maida. 

"  Shall  I  kill  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  she  said  trembling.  "  Let  him  go.  You  are  here.  I  am 
safe." 

The  man  stood  and  glared  at  us  like  an  animal  at  bay.  I  saw 
his  eyes  dart  from  Maida  to  me,  from  me  to  the  Countess,  and 
rest  on  her  as  if  begging  something.  And  his  hunted  instinct  was 
right.  If  there  were  hope  left  for  him  anywhere,  it  was  with  her. 

"Don't  believe  anything  they  say  of  me,"  he  panted,  dry- 
lipped.  "  Corramini  tricked  me  by  sending  his  wife's  servant  in 
your  place,  dressed  in  your  things,  wearing  your  motor-mask. 
She  would  n't  speak.  I  did  n't  know  the  truth  till  I  got  here.  I 
thought  it  was  you  I  had  run  away  with  to  Montenegro,  hoping  I 
might  persuade  you  to  marry  me,  when  you  were  out  of  the  way 
of  your  daughter,  who  hates  me,  and  would  ruin  me  with  you  if 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HIGH  DIPLOMACY          319 

she  could.  I  would  have  left  Miss  Destrey  behind,  if  I  could  have 
hoped  you  'd  come  without  her.  Imagine  my  feelings  when  I 
found  out  I  'd  lost  you !  If  I  have  frightened  her  it  was  in  my 
blind  rage  against  her  and  every  one  concerned  in  the  trick.  As 
for  your  chauffeur,  he  is  not  worth  fighting,  and  as  I  am  a  gentle 
man,  I  do  not  even  return  the  blows  of  one  who  is  not  —  espec 
ially  before  ladies." 

"Aunt  Kathryn,  you  must  not  believe  his  falsehoods,"  cried 
Maida.  "  If  you  do  —  if  you  let  yourself  care  for  him  —  he  will 
spoil  your  life." 

The  Countess  petulantly  stopped  her  ears.  "  I  won't  listen  to 
you/'  was  her  answer.  "  I  knew  there  had  been  trickery  of  some 
sort,  and  you  may  as  well  save  your  breath,  for  whatever  you  say 
I  will  believe  nothing  against  the  man  I  love." 

With  that  she  took  her  fingers  from  her  ears,  and  held  out 
both  hands  to  Dalmar-Kalm.  He  ran  to  take  them,  and  pressed 
his  lips  ardently  first  upon  one,  then  the  other  plump  cushion 
of  dimpled  satin. 

Disgusted  with  this  exhibition  of  a  woman's  folly,  while  I  pit 
ied  it,  I  could  look  no  more,  but  turned  to  Maida. 

"  Will  you  let  me  take  you  away  ?  "  was  all  that  my  lips  said, 
but  my  eyes  said  more,  in  memory  of  that  first  moment  of  our 
meeting,  which  was,  please  God,  to  influence  our  whole  future  — 
hers  and  mine. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  But  —  I  can't  leave  here  without  Aunt 
Kathryn." 

"You  must  go  with  Miss  Destrey,  Countess,"  I  insisted. 
"  Whatever  you  may  decide  later  in  regard  to  Prince  Dalmar- 
Kalm,  in  any  case  you  must  go  with  your  niece  and  me  to  stop 
at  an  hotel  in  Cettinje,  for  the  night." 

The  man  would  not  let  go  her  hand.  "  Promise  me  you  will  not 
leave  Montenegro  till  you  are  my  wife,"  he  begged.  "  If  you  do,  I 
feel  I  shall  lose  you  for  ever." 

"  I  '11  do  my  best,"  faltered  the  lady,  as  a  lady  should,  I  suppose, 
who  feels  herself  a  heroine  of  romance.  I  could  almost  have  re- 


320  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

spected  that  scoundrel  for  his  diplomacy.  His  motto  was,  "  Get 
what  you  want,  or  if  you  can't,  take  what  you  can;"  and  he  was 
living  up  to  it,  playing  up  to  it  before  an  audience  as  no  other 
man  I  ever  saw  could  or  would.  He  did  n't  seem  to  care  what  we 
thought  of  him,  now  that  he  was  gaining  his  point.  But  when 
fatty  degeneration  of  the  soul  sets  in,  there  is  room  for  little  real 
pride  in  a  man's  breast. 

"  You  will  not  allow  yourself  to  be  prejudiced  against  me  ?  "  he 
went  on. 

"Never,"  vowed  the  Countess.  "No  one  had  better  try  it." 

"  I  will  not  try  after  to-night,  if  what  I  have  to  tell  doesn't 
change  your  mind,"  said  Maida.  "  But,  just  this  once  —  " 

"No  — no!" 

"  Very  well  then,  I  will  say  nothing  except  —  " 

"Be  careful!" 

"Oh,"  and  the  girl  turned  imploringly  to  me,  "take  us  some 
where,  so  that  I  can  talk  to  her  alone." 

"  There  's  said  to  be  a  good  enough  hotel  in  Cettinje.  I  '11 
take  you  both  there,"  I  ventured. 

"  Come  and  see  me  early  —  early,  Prince,"  said  the  Coun 
tess. 

"Yes.  But  I  am  not  'Prince'  to  you  now.  I  am  'Otto.'" 

"  Otto,  then." 

So  I  got  them  away,  leaving  the  man  behind,  to  his  own  de 
vices,  and  at  the  door  I  had  the  joy  of  wrapping  Maida  in  my  big 
coat.  How  glad  I  was  that  I  had  brought  it!  I  drove  them  to  a 
hotel  in  the  place  at  the  end  of  the  long  main  street,  and  when  the 
Countess  had  hurried  ostentatiously  off  to  her  room,  that  no  nefa 
rious  attempts  might  be  made  upon  her  resolution,  She  and  I 
stood  for  a  moment  hand  in  hand,  in  the  dim  hall. 

"  You  are  mine  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  want  me  ?  " 

"  I  've  been  sure  of  that  —  too  sure  for  my  peace  of  mind 
since  the  first  day  I  saw  your  dear  face  —  the  loveliest  on  earth. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HIGH  DIPLOMACY          321 

But  I  never  thought  to  have  you.  I  never  thought  that  I  would 
have  a  right  to  ask,  for  I  'm  poor  —  horribly  poor." 

"Oh,  as  if  that  mattered!" 

"  I  know  it  does  n't  now,  for  this  that  *s  happened  has  given  us 
to  each  other.  I'll  work  hard  and  make  money.  Nothing  can 
part  us  —  I  could  n't  bear  it.  But  it  seems  too  good  to  be  true. 
Is  it  possible  you  care  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  've  cared  —  ever  since  the  first  few  days.  I  'd  never 
guessed  that  I  would  meet  a  man  like  you.  But  oh,  I  did  not 
mean  to  marry  any  man." 

"  I  know,  darling.  I  know  what  you  'd  planned.  I  lay  awake 
nights  over  it,  wondering  if,  beggar  as  I  was,  I  could  n't  snatch 
you  from  that  cold  future.  But  I  should  n't  have  thought  I  had 
the  right  if  this  thunderbolt  had  n't  struck  me." 

"  As  Aunt  Kathryn  —  poor  Aunt  Kathryn !  —  is  always  say 
ing,  '  It  must  have  been  meant.  I  never  promised  that  —  that  I 
would  join  the  Sisters,  you  know.  I  suppose  this  is  why  my  father 
would  have  me  go  abroad  when  I  came  of  age.  He  was  afraid  I 
might  make  up  my  mind  before  I  had  —  found  my  heart." 

"  Have  you  found  it  now  —  for  sure  ?  " 

"No.  I —  I've  tori  it." 

"  Angel !  But  you  've  got  mine  instead.  You  won't  mind  marry 
ing  a  beggar  and  being  a  beggaress  ?  " 

The  adorable  creature  laughed.  "I  shall  love  it,"  she  said. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  hall  except  Airole,  and  the  shadows  were 
asleep  —  so  I  kissed  her:  and  knew  why  I  had  been  born.  I  'd 
often  wondered,  but  I  never  will  again. 

We  had  a  fierce  tussle  with  the  Countess  to  prevent  her 
stopping  in  Montenegro  and  marrying  her  Prince  there  and 
then,  as  soon  as  might  be.  The  truth  was,  and  she  owned  it, 
that  she  was  afraid  to  face  Beechy  till  she  had  been  made  irrev 
ocably  a  Princess.  But  finally  we  prevailed,  almost  by  force, 
and  tore  the  poor  lady  from  her  lover,  who  protested  that  he 
would  follow,  were  it  to  the  world's  end.  I  believed  he  would, 


322  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

too,  for  he  had  threatened  to  be  the  last  man  in  Maida's  world; 
the  Countess  was  now  the  last  woman  in  his,  and  he  would 
hold  on  to  her  and  her  money  as  a  drowning  man  grasps  at  a 
substantial  spar. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  drive  down  from  the  mountain  land 
where  a  King  rode  to  fetch  a  fairy  bride. 

At  Cattaro  we  took  the  fishing  boat  which  had  carried  me  yes 
terday;  and  I  think  the  sailor-men  realized,  when  they  saw  what 
I  had  brought  back,  that  I  was  n't  a  madman  after  all. 

Then  the  spin  from  Castelnuovo  to  Ragusa  that  I  had  taken 
in  such  a  different  mood  fifteen  hours  before.  And  at  Ragusa, 
Beechy,  still  pale  and  shaken,  springing  up  from  her  sofa  to  meet 
Maida  and  me  as  we  opened  the  door. 

Ralph  sprang  up  too,  and  his  chair  had  been  drawn  so  close  to 
her  sofa  that  the  rush  of  her  white  wrapper  —  or  whatever  it  was 
—  upset  it. 

"  Where  's  Mamma  ?  "  came  the  first  question,  as  was  natural. 

"  She's  gone  to  her  room,  and  we're  to  talk  to  you  before  she 
sees  you,"  said  Maida.  "  Oh  Beechy,  you  must  be  good  to  her; 
she's  miserable." 

Then  we  told  the  story,  preparing  Beechy  for  her  mother's 
decision,  and  I  expected  hysterics.  But  she  neither  laughed  nor 
cried.  She  only  sat  still,  looking  curiously  guilty  and  meek. 

*'  Is  n't  it  dreadful  ?  But  I  could  n't  do  anything,"  said  Maida. 
"  He  is  a  wicked  man  —  you  don't  know  yet  how  wicked.  He  got 
me  up  to  Montenegro  by  a  horrid  pretence,  and  when  I  would  n't 
promise  to  marry  him  at  once  he  tried  arguments  for  about  an 
hour,  then  locked  the  door  of  a  room  in  the  house  where  we  were 
because  his  motor  broke  down,  and  threatened  to  shoot  me.  I 
don't  know  if  he  really  would.  Perhaps  not.  But  anyway,  Mr. 
Barrymore  saved  me.  He  came  just  then  and  burst  the  door 
open." 

"It's  all  my  fault  from  beginning  to  end!"  broke  out 
Beechy,  tragically.  "  I  confessed  to  Sir  Ralph  yesterday,  when  I 
was  only  worried  for  fear  something  might  happen,  but  now  it 


A  CHAPTER  OF  HIGH  DIPLOMACY         323 

has  happened,  I  '11  confess  to  you,  too.  I  got  afraid  Mamma 
would  really  marry  the  Prince  —  oh,  but  that  was  n't  the  way  it 
began !  Just  for  fun,  long  ago,  when  we  first  started,  I  let  him 
pump  me  —  it  was  great  fun  then  —  and  told  him  how  rich 
Mamma  was,  and  would  be,  even  if  she  married  again.  I  thought 
it  would  be  such  larks  to  watch  his  game,  and  so  it  was  for  a 
while,  till  I  was  in  an  awful  stew  for  fear  I  'd  gone  too  far  and 
could  n't  stop  things.  I  was  ready  then  to  do  something  desperate 
rather  than  find  myself  saddled  with  that  Prince  for  my  step 
father.  So  I  sacrificed  you." 

"I  don't  see  —  "  Maida  began;  but  Beechy  cut  her  short. 

"  Why,  when  we  went  to  that  Sisterhood  of  yours,  I  overheard 
the  Mother  Superior,  or  whatever  you  call  her,  confiding  to  Mam 
ma  that  you  were  a  tremendous  heiress,  that  you  did  n't  quite 
know  how  rich  you  were  yourself,  and  would  n't  be  told  till  you 
were  safely  back  from  Europe.  It  was  a  secret,  and  I  had  n't  any 
business  to  know.  But  I  let  it  out  to  the  Prince,  when  I  was  in 
such  a  state  about  him  and  Mamma,  in  Bellagio.  He  went  for 
you  at  once,  as  I  knew  he  would  —  but  what 's  the  matter,  Mr. 
Barrymore  ?  It  is  n't  for  you  to  be  angry  with  me.  It 's  for 
Maida." 

'*  I  'm  not  angry  with  you,  but  with  myself,"  I  said.  And  then 
for  a  minute  I  forgot  Ralph  and  Beechy,  and  remembered  only 
Maida.  "  Don't  think  I  knew,"  I  said.  "  If  I  had,  I  would  n't  - 

"  Oh,  don't  say  you  would  n't.  I  love  to  feel  you  had  to,"  the 
Angel  cried.  "  I  hold  you  to  your  word,  oh,  with  all  my  heart  in 
my  right  to  you.  Beechy,  your  Chauffeulier  and  I — are  engaged." 

"  There ! "  the  child  exclaimed,  with  a  look  at  Ralph  I  could  n't 
fathom.  "  Did  n't  I  tell  you  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  does  n't  matter  now,  does  it  ?  "  was  his  retort.  "  How 
shall  I  feel  if  you  don't  wish  Miss  Destrey  your  best  wishes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do,  I  do,"  exclaimed  the  strange  child.  "  And  I  con 
gratulate  the  Chauffeulier.  But  he  must  do  some  congratulating 
too.  I  'm  going  to  put  up  my  hair,  come  out  in  a  long  dress,  and 
be  engaged  to  Sir  Ralph." 


324  MY  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR 

Maida's  great  eyes  were  greater  than  ever.  "  Beechy ! "  she  pro 
tested.  "You  are  n't  fourteen!" 

"No,  I  know  I  'm  not;  but  I  'm  seventeen.  And  when  I  told 
Ralph  that,  he  proposed  at  once.  You  see  he  's  been  my  father 
confessor  ever  since  we  've  been  on  this  trip,  so  he  knows  all 
that 's  best  and  worst  of  me;  and  I  do  think  we  shall  have  real 
fun  when  we  're  married.  I  told  Mamma  I  'd  have  no  Princes  on 
my  ranch,  and  I  won't.  But  if  she's  fool  enough  to  take 
that  man,  after  all,  she  and  I  can  visit  each  other's  ranches 
after  this,  and  we  '11  be  all  right.  Mine'  s  going  to  be  in 
England  or  Scotland  in  summer,  and  in  winter  I  'm  to  live  with 
Felicite  and  the  duck.  Oh,  I  shall  be  happy,  and  so  will  Ralph,  I 
hope.  But  I  never  thought  a  good  democrat  like  Papa's  daughter 
would  go  and  marry  a  man  with  a  title." 

"  A  mere  baronet.  It  need  n't  go  against  the  grain  much,"  re 
marked  Sir  Ralph.  "  Think  how  much  worse  it  is  for  your  poor 
cousin ! " 

"Why?" 

"  To  marry  a  *  real  live  lord,'  who  will  some  day  be  a  marquis." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Beechy.  "She  who  said  she  would  like  to 
teach  other  American  girls  a  lesson." 

"  I  did  n't  know,v"  Maida  faltered. 

"What?"  asked  Ralph.  "You  did  n't  tell  her?" 

"  I  forgot  all  about  it,"  I  said.  "  But  Maida,  dearest,  it  does  n't 
matter.  I  —  " 

"  Nothing  matters  but  you,"  she  said. 

"And  you,"  I  added. 

THE  END 


THE  MCCLURE  PRESS,  NEW  YORK 


'"''''8 


9129^3 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


